


Cascada

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Cheriks [10]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: (so far) - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cooking, Family Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mob connections, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Threats of Violence, dadneto, only one explicit scene, so much goddamn fluff, this is primarily a fluff-fest sooo, towards Shaw so it's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: "Can't you hear my heart beat fast,I want this to last,Need you by my side."From a tumblr prompt: Charles is a famous Youtube chef and Erik is a faithful viewer.





	1. eins

Erik set his laptop down on the counter and began pulling out ingredients.

 

He’d gone shopping specially for today. His coworkers were coming over for the holidays; it wasn’t for Christmas, though Azazel was a new Christian, and it wasn’t for Hanukkah, though Erik was still Jewish. It was just that they were all tired of the “holiday cheer”, hated their families (if they had any), and needed a place to gather and complain without anyone calling the cops.

 

Erik finished setting out his ingredients and clicked ‘play’ on the Youtube video.

 

“Hello, everyone!” Erik adjusted the volume on his laptop, making it a little louder, and gazed at the cheerful blue eyes and ruddy-mouthed smile of the man in the video. “It’s Charles again, and I have a new recipe to try. Here to help me is my sister Raven.” Erik shook his head a little, as he always did when Raven, the pretty blond woman, slid into view and smiled shyly at the camera. “We’re going to make a cake our great-grandmother wrote down. It turned out pretty delicious when we first tried it. Don’t forget that you can adjust the flavor however you like. Alright, let’s get to it!”

 

Erik followed the instructions faithfully, using his powers to move and mix things while he kept his intense gaze on the video. He’d already made this cake several times, but he wanted to get it exactly right. It had always turned out well, so he was fairly sure he could make it correctly… But he liked having the instructions in front of him. He liked  _ hearing _ instructions, rather than having to read them.

 

No. He’ll admit it. He liked watching and hearing Charles.

 

Charles--or ProfessorXavier, if you went by his channel name--didn’t just cook and bake. He did educational videos, too, that were actually quite popular. But while it was soothing to listen to him lecture about English classics and biology and genetics and how mutants weren’t any different than non-mutants, it was his cooking show that really drew Erik in. The way he smiled, the way he spoke… he was comfortable in the kitchen as he never was in front of his smartboard. Not that he wasn’t comfortable lecturing as well, but he always seemed slightly stiffer than he was in his kitchen.

 

Erik absently dropped a handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips into the batter, watching Charles’ graceful hands do the same while Raven held the bowl. Erik’s bowl--like all his kitchen utensils and paraphernalia--was metal, and therefore did not slip as the metal whisk briskly worked the batter.

 

When the batter was poured, Erik paused the video to pick up the cake pan and slide it into the oven. The oven was electric, so he was wary of using his powers on it. Then he turned back to the video, turning it on and feeling a small smile tilt the corners of his mouth as Charles laughed at something Raven said. His laugh was rich and deeper than expected, and it made Erik less annoyed.

 

He watched the video to the end, watching them make icing, Raven making pretty patterns and Charles botching a simple squiggle. Then came the tasting. Raven scrunched her nose, and Charles rolled his eyes heavenward.

 

“Too sweet,” Raven said.

 

“Just right,” Charles replied smugly. Then he smiled at the camera. “And that’s all folks! See you next week!”

 

Erik clicked the searchbar and typed in  ProfessorXavier stuffing recipe . Many videos popped up, but he selected the top one and gathered ingredients while Charles went through his usual cheerful greeting.

 

Raven did not help with this one. It was just Charles, his voice soothing as he explained his process. Erik set his knives to chopping and slowly shredded day-old homemade bread with his fingers, as Charles had done. The bread was Erik’s mother’s recipe. He would never do any other, not even Charles’.

 

Charles smiled at the camera and Erik smiled too.

 

Azazel was the first to arrive, just appearing to lounge on Erik’s sofa, tucking his linked hands behind his head. Erik didn’t even notice him at first, too busy leaning on the kitchen island and watching the newest cooking video (a “fake lasagna” made with ravioli instead of noodles). When he did, he jabbed pause and slapped the laptop shut. Azazel smirked.

 

“More of that charming professor?” Azazel asked, his accent barely changed despite his many years stateside. 

 

“No,” Erik replied stiffly, going to check on the stuffing. It was done; time to let it cool. “When are the others coming?”

 

“They’ll be here in a few minutes,” Azazel drawled, making himself more comfortable.

 

“Good.”

 

Emma and Angel, the newest addition to the group, arrived together. Emma had a key to Erik’s apartment and waltzed right in, Angel following a little more slowly. The former set a covered dish of assorted cooked chicken (grilled, fried, and baked) down on the dining table, since Erik didn’t eat ham, and the latter two bottles of Michigan cherry wine.

 

“Budge up,” Emma ordered Azazel, and he glared but sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. “Thanks, ‘Zel.” Emma sat primly on the middle cushion as Azazel scooted over to the side, and patted the empty cushion beside her. Angel sat, gazing around with interest.

 

Erik’s flat didn’t seem very personal unless you knew him. Everything was stark black and white, and shades of grey and silver. The furniture was comfortable and clean, the floors honey-colored wood or white tile. He had some medieval weapons on the walls, all of which he knew how to use, and all polished and sharpened to mirror-brightness. In his bedroom he had four bookshelves stuffed with books; out in the living room, only two bookshelves, holding a paltry assortment, but proudly displaying various metal sculptures he’d made himself. They didn’t look like anything; they weren’t supposed to. He’d just liked the shapes. In his office he had more books, and a glass and brushed steel desk upon which sat his Mac and precious iPad Pro. He was a Mac person in his personal life, though he liked PCs for work. And the kitchen was a wonderland of metal.

 

The less said about the state of his bathroom the better.

 

Janos arrived with the salad, since he was a vegetarian. It was excellent salad, none of the disgusting bitter leaves or the empty white bits of iceberg lettuce. There were walnuts and cherries on it, too.

 

Azazel said grace over his meal while everyone else tucked in. No one minded about what the others did; religion was too trivial to the atheists, too important to the spiritual, to be mocked, belittled, or scorned. Everyone pretended not to hear as Erik muttered in Yiddish around his first mouthful of bread, knowing it was his own version of grace and he did not like it when people said anything about it.

 

After everyone had a few bites in them, the Great Complaining began.

 

Emma kicked it off. “Shaw is disgusting,” she snorted, picking at her chicken.

 

“What’d he do this time?” Erik grunted.

 

“Grabbed my butt. Again. Then told me to get him some ice. Honestly, I’m the  _ secretary _ , not the  _ maid _ .”

 

Angel nibbled a walnut and looked uncomfortable. Erik met her eyes. “What’d he do?” he repeated, this time to her.

 

“Threatened my friends,” she murmured, lowering her gaze, “Because I wouldn’t let him grope my boobs.”

 

Emma wrapped her arm around Angel’s shoulders. “He won’t hurt them,” she assured her younger friend confidently. “He hasn’t done anything himself in  _ years _ .”

 

“And there are ways of lying to him,” Azazel added, sticking his forked tongue out at Angel, which always made her feel better. She had said it reminded her of her older brother, who’d been distinctly snake-looking when he came into his powers.

 

They complained about Shaw, then they moved on to their coworkers. Emma was The Secretary of whom all the administrative staff were terrified, Janos was the bodyguard and in charge of transport, and Azazel was the one who did all the arm-breaking and throat-slitting. Erik made sure everything balanced; the company, the personal life, and the mob connections. Angel was Emma’s new assistant, and swiftly proving herself among the underlings as one to be wary of. Her temper was quiet, but damn, it was fierce. And if you weren’t nice to her or didn’t do something she told you to… well, enjoy life with half a left foot when she delicately spit acid on it.

 

Shaw was growing very fond of Angel, despite Emma’s best efforts to shield her.

 

After dinner, Erik brought out the cake. Azazel jeered at him about where he learned to bake, but shut up when Erik said coldly, “I guess you don’t get any.” Everyone who’d ever tried anything he’d baked said it was The Best and did everything in their power to convince him to make more for them. Azazel included.

 

Janos got vegan cupcakes because Erik respected his dietary restrictions. The others were happy with cake.

 

They sat around and drank wine until it was gone. Angel got giggly and tipsy, so Azazel took her home, returning in five minutes with the announcement, “She’s asleep now.”

 

“Poor kid,” Emma murmured, running her crystal finger along the rim of the glass, making it sing. “You know, she told me she stopped talking to her friends when she joined the company? Except her friend Raven. They talk on the phone every night.”

 

Raven? Erik frowned and undid his shirt’s top button. He was too warm. But it surely couldn’t be Raven from the videos. No, that was just too much of a coincidence. He dismissed the notion. Surely there were plenty of other people named Raven. And Emma hadn’t even said if Angel’s Raven was a woman or otherwise.

 

Erik kicked them all out at midnight and collapsed into bed. He dreamed of cherry-red lips and laughing blue eyes.

 

~

 

“Hello. I’m sorry I didn’t post a video last week, I was at a funeral.”

 

Erik froze, and stared at the screen.

 

He’d barely looked at the title of the video, too excited by the fact that Charles had finally posted, and now he looked again. The title was  An Apology .

 

Charles was a wreck. His eyes were red-rimmed and bagged, and his smile was weak and forced. His clothing, normally so neatly pressed, was rumpled. His hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it. He seemed to have filmed the newest video on a laptop camera, which did nothing but make him look blurry and paler than he already was.

 

“A family member died rather suddenly,” Charles was saying. “I… I took a couple weeks off from the internet. And no, it’s not Raven, she’s fine.” The smile began to fade. Then a blip, a cut, and Charles was smiling again, though he looked perilously close to tears. “I’ll have another video soon,” he promised, and swallowed hard. “Just… I need a little time. Thank you. I’m sorry. Good bye.”

 

And the video ended.

 

Erik sat there, stunned. Over two hundred videos, six announcements of sad things, and he’d never seen Charles even  _ close _ to that level of fucked up. It must have been someone very close. A parent? Another sibling? What kind of death would cause a man to take two whole weeks off?

 

He scrolled down to the comments. It was quite a lot of well-wishing and sympathizing, and a few scattered comments about how he looked hot even in grief, as if that would be any consolation. Erik went through and down-voted all of them, and clicked especially hard on the comment that said  _ you deserve it, filthy mutant _ .

 

After a moment, Erik gave in to temptation, and began a comment-war.

 

It absorbed three hours of his afternoon, but he did win. He smiled grimly as his notifications ceased.

 

Then a new comment appeared, by ProfessorXavier himself:  _ Please refrain from comment-wars on my videos, thank you _ .

 

Erik wanted to reply that he’d been protecting his honor, that he’d been putting the human scum in their place, that it was all for Charles--but he didn’t say that. He simply typed  ProfessorXavier chocolate chip cookies recipe in the search bar and rewatched the video for the eight hundredth time. This was his most soothing video, for Erik at least. He loved this recipe, and Charles’ voice was so calm and gentle, his movements slow and careful. Erik saw in the comments people talking about how this was a good “ASMR” video, but since he didn’t know what ASMR was, he didn’t care.

 

The sadness in Charles’ eyes during that apology video…

 

Erik frowned and shook his head, and abruptly stood, pausing the video right on a smile. He stared for a moment, then left the office and poured himself a drink, brooding in the kitchen.

 

His cellphone rang. He sighed heavily and answered. “Hello?”

 

“Dad, it’s Wanda.”

 

Oh, shit.

 

“On my way,” Erik promised, hurrying to the coat closet. “I was--finishing some work.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Wanda sounded both amused and long-suffering. “Look, if you’re gonna moon over someone, shouldn’t you choose one you have a chance with?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, shoving his foot in his shoe. 

 

“Riiight. See you soon, dad!”

 

Erik scowled and tucked his phone in his pocket as he pulled on a jacket. It was only when he was in the car that he realized he was wearing all black. He grimaced, but there was no time to change. He’d just have to deal with the inevitable “who died?” jokes.

 

He was at the concert hall with minutes to spare, and located Peter and Wanda by the bracelets he’d made for them. It had taken him days, and they were both a bit sloppy, but they had a special resonance which meant he could find them unerringly in any crowd.

 

He saw them first, and was plowing through the crowd when one pimply young man jeered, “Hey, who’s funeral is it?”

 

Erik met his eyes and said, “I haven’t decided yet.” Then he kept walking, leaving the boy and his friends shaken.

 

Peter and Wanda didn’t do too well with crowds. Peter whined that everyone was too slow and there wasn’t space to move, and Wanda said that they made her want to use her powers to make people move out of her way. Erik hated crowds because he could not stand the idea of being touched by anyone but his children. Or Magda. But Magda was long gone and he should stop clinging to her ghost.

 

But his children were standing by the wall, complaining together, and brightened when they saw him. He relaxed and smiled back, because these were his little ones and he loved them. People saw his smile and scurried out of his way. Well, they were silly, then; just because his smile showed all his sharp teeth didn’t mean he was the type to go around biting.

 

“Dad!” Wanda fought through the crowd and hugged him; Peter waited until they had escaped the crush to also hug Erik, though he did so quickly. “We thought you weren’t going to make it.”

 

“Fairly sure I broke several traffic laws, but no one caught me,” Erik replied, putting one hand on Peter’s shoulder and the other on Wanda’s. “When does the show start? In two minutes?”

 

Peter and Wanda gave him identical Looks of equal parts exasperation and fondness. “Five, you time-challenged old man,” Wanda retorted. “Which means you better go find Aunt Mindy before some creep sits by her.”

 

Erik sighed but nodded, kissed them both on the cheek (which made Peter wrinkle his nose in distaste), and went to find his seat.

 

There was, indeed, a creepy man trying to talk to Mindy, Magda’s best friend and caretaker of the children (she’d been very angry at Erik’s poor parenting, and demanded to take them in, so while Erik was still legal guardian, they lived with Mindy). Erik tapped the creepy man on the shoulder, and when he looked up, scowling, Erik said, “Excuse me, but this happens to be my seat.”

 

“She said no one was sitting here!”

 

Erik looked to Mindy. She pressed her lips together, but nodded reluctantly. Then she said, “But I didn’t think you’d come.”

 

Erik ignored the faint pang of hurt and anger. Not come to his children’s concert? Why would he do that? Then again, she’d never trusted him to do anything vaguely parent-like. “Well, I did. May I sit here?”

 

“Yes,” Mindy said.

 

“But--” Creepy Man spluttered, but Erik stared at him until he stood and shuffled past Erik, letting him take the seat. Mindy looked grudgingly impressed. Erik made sure to leave her the arm rest.

 

In four minutes exactly, the orchestra gathered on stage. There was polite applause, then the first strains of music began.

 

Wanda was first chair violin, and Peter was on drums. Music was good for them, helped them learned finesse. And even if this was the high school concert and therefore there were mistakes, Wanda’s solo was beautiful, and Peter managed not to go too fast. Erik relaxed, taking in the music, and also the hum of metal. There was a second orchestra beneath the first, as metal fixtures and strings and instruments vibrated to his special senses. Some was in recognition of his presence, like a cat with a human they liked; most was in reaction to the way they were being used.

 

Mmm, lovely…

 

Sometimes Erik was called a music snob because he prefered live orchestral music. All of time, he didn’t give a damn. He was probably single-handedly supporting the local orchestra with his monthly donations, as well as buying a ticket to each performance. He’d worked it out early on; buying a ticket for each was more money to them than buying a pass. And he wanted to support them, not just because they made good music, but because Wanda wanted to join them when she and Peter graduated in a few months. Erik wanted them to exist so his baby girl could make music with them.

 

Peter didn’t know what he wanted to do. Erik didn’t know how to help. He settled for promising to rent the school track after graduation for Peter and his mutant buddies to have full reign of for once.

 

Strange, how Erik had gone from a penniless immigrant with barely any English to a powerful figure in Shaw Unlimited.

 

But the music, focus on the music. Erik’s eyes drifted half-closed, and a small smile curved his lips.

 

“You are terrifying, you know that?” Mindy muttered.

 

“Hush, please,” he murmured, feeling the vibration of metal in his soul.

 

At the end of the concert, he clapped with everyone else, and stood with everyone else, and resigned himself to shuffling out like everyone else. Oh, he could easily move people out of his way, or hover over them, but he didn’t want to start a stampede or have someone call the cops. That would just be irritating. So he settled for leading the way outside, knowing Mindy was following in his wake. Erik wasn’t broad, but he was still tall and, he was told, exuded a sort of powerfulness and a “get the fuck out of my way” vibe. Maybe the fact that he was in all black was useful here.

 

Peter and Wanda found them, and first they went to Mindy’s car to fetch the kids’ bags, then went to Erik’s to tuck it all in the trunk. It was going to be a quiet weekend, though Erik had promised a trip to the zoo so they could finish their reports on animal cruelty and various laws impacting how zoos treated their residents. Erik hoped the twins wouldn’t tease him too much for being unable to cook anymore without the soothing voice of Charles Xavier in the background.

 

They said their goodbyes to Mindy, who hugged all three of them (Erik was very surprised to receive a quick embrace) and hopped in her Corolla. Erik shook his head slightly and slid into the driver’s seat of his own car, reflexively glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure the twins were buckled. They caught him looking and rolled their eyes as one.

 

“We’re not kids anymore,” Peter reminded him.

 

“I know,” Erik replied, pulling out of the parking lot.

 

They arrived at his apartment and the twins dropped their bags in the guest room (which was really the master bedroom, but Erik had made it into their room for when they visited) before wandering to the kitchen and watching him start dinner.

 

“No Pretty Professor tonight?” Wanda asked innocently. Peter snorted.

 

Erik did not glare, but he did gaze sternly at them. “I don’t watch his videos  _ every _ night,” he admonished stiffly. “Just when I don’t know what to cook.”

 

“And what are you making?” Peter inquired.

 

“...scrambled eggs and toast,” Erik answered, and he would forever swear that he did not mutter it sullenly.

 

His children had the gall to laugh at him.

 

“Silence!” he snapped, in the tone that usually brought complete silence and servitude. Now it just made the twins stifle their laughter into muffled giggles. He scowled and turned back to the stove, flicking it on and letting the metal bowl full of whisked ingredients pour into the pan. It was an old favorite, eggs with cheese, crumbled (kosher) sausage, and a dash of pepper. Magda had taught it to him.

 

“Hey, dad?”

 

“Yes?” He can never stay angry at his own children, so it came out quite normally.

 

“Did you know there’s a Professor Xavier coming to the school to give a presentation?” Wanda asked nonchalantly. Peter snickered.

 

Erik froze, staring at the eggs. “How interesting,” he said, completely neutral.

 

“It’s for staff, of course, but we could get you in,” Peter added.

 

“He’s bringing his assistant, Dr. McCoy.”

 

Dr. McCoy. Hank McCoy? The starry-eyed, tongue-tied young man from Charles’ videos?

 

“Would you like to go?” Wanda asked sweetly.

 

Erik turned to them, and even though he meant to say Absolutely not, what came out was “When is it?”

 

~

 

Erik hid in the back of the crowd in the lecture hall, arms crossed, expression carefully blank, as teachers and staff murmured excitedly to each other. It wasn’t often that a celebrated professor came to speak at this school. Supposedly he was going to speak on teaching methods and how to prepare children for college. Erik wondered if he might get excited and forget himself and start babbling about genetics. It would be adorable if he did, his cheeks going pink, his eyes sparkling, his smile--

 

Wait. It’d only been a day since his apology video.

 

What if he wasn’t okay?

 

Erik frowned to himself, carefully aiming his eyes at his knees so he didn’t frighten anyone. He didn’t need to be worrying about Charles’ mental health. He really didn’t. But--

 

Charles walked through the door. Erik lost his breath.

 

It was one thing to see him in the soft light of his kitchen, through whatever editing he’d done to sharpen colors and put the focus on his hands and whatever he was doing. It was another to see him in the harsh light of the lecture hall. There were circles under his eyes and he looked tired, but there was a tiny smile on his face. It widened when he saw that the lecture hall was almost full. He looked flattered.

 

A taller man skulked in behind him and quietly set a briefcase down on the table at the front, opening it and handing Charles a packet of papers. Charles murmured to him and he nodded, looking depressed.

 

But then Charles turned to the room at large and smiled and Erik felt his heart miss a few beats. “Good morning!” Charles greeted them all, eyes roving over those gathered. “Thank you for coming, it really is wonderful to be here. My name’s Charles Xavier and this is my associate Dr. Hank McCoy.”

 

Erik soon learned that Charles expected participation in his lectures. The teachers and staff were good at that, because Charles was just so… so… sweet and kind and open. If this was the way he treated his students, with respect and kindness that they probably didn’t deserve, then it was no wonder he was so beloved. Of course his online lectures had been kind of closed and extremely detailed, because he had no audience, but here, he seemed to blossom, and encouraged others to as well.

 

Not that Erik did. He remained silent, watching and listening, entranced. It had been similar with Magda, watching first, then getting close, until she’d grown tired of his slowness and demanded he go to dinner with her. Would Charles mind terribly if Erik tried to get close to him? Oh, probably.  And there were other things to consider…

 

The talk on what to teach students to better prepare them for college went very well, as far as Erik could tell. It ended far too soon for Erik’s taste, and he tried to slip out while people were crowding around Charles and McCoy, shaking hands and talking about how much they liked his videos.

 

“Mr. Lehnsherr! Can I talk to you please?”

 

Erik suppressed a sigh and turned. “Yes, Mr. Parks?” he said stiffly as a buslty old man approached.

 

“It’s about Peter,” the old man began, and Erik stifled a groan.  _ Everything _ was about Peter. “I know he doesn’t live with you, but surely there is  _ something _ you can do to keep him in his place. He won’t sit still, he won’t pay attention--are you  _ sure _ he doesn’t have ADHD?”

 

“I’m very sure,” Erik replied gravely. “We’ve taken him to multiple doctors. He’s completely neurotypical except for the fact that he thinks faster than you or I ever will.” He’d often discussed this with Peter, who had told him that it felt like the world was stuck in molasses and he was walking on top. Erik had steered him towards scientific studies stating that birds perceive time differently, and let him develop an essay on how every person experienced time at different speeds. Maybe it would help him get into college.

 

Mr. Parks’ eyes widened. “He’s a--a mutant?” he whispered, face ashen.

 

Erik glared at him. “Peter is a smart boy stuck in a boring class,” he snapped, “And if he’s to make anything of himself he needs to be allowed to move beyond you and your prejudices.”  _ Filthy human _ hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he did not say it. He’d seen what happened to mutant children; he refused to let that happen to his own. Everyone knew that he was a mutant, he’d made no secret of that, but as far as anyone else knew, Peter and Wanda were human.

 

Mr. Parks muttered an apology and scuttled away, back to the group of teachers. Erik glared at all of them, at these humans, these weak, pathetic humans, he could kill them all, wrap steel around their throats, steal the iron from their blood, kill them kill them kill--

 

But he wasn’t Magneto anymore. He took a deep breath, let it out, and stalked out of the room.

 

~~~\0/~~~

 

Charles was silent on the way to the hotel. He was tired, and he’d had his mental walls up and completely closed for a week at least. Or maybe a week and a half? No, ever since… ever since… 

 

Screams…

 

He closed his eyes and forced himself to keep breathing.

 

“Charles? You alright?”

 

He opened his eyes and smiled tiredly at Hank, who was driving. “Yes, I’m fine. I don’t think I’ll be joining you and Raven for dinner.”

 

Hank’s eyes went impossibly round. “A-are you sure?” he stammered, and Charles remembered that Hank was terrified of and adored Raven in equal measure. Really, Charles, get it together.

 

But he was so tired…

 

But he couldn’t abandon them. Even if Raven did call him a cockblock and a third wheel, she was the one who’d specifically asked Charles to come visit, and she’d been the one to book the reservation for three (under his name, of course). He sighed. “No, you’re right. I’ll come along. I’ve been dying to try the salmon.”

 

Hank’s relieved sigh was audible, though he probably didn’t mean it to be. Charles looked out the window again.

 

His hotel room felt both too stuffy and too cold. He sat down on the bed, opened his laptop, and started recording.

 

“Hello, everyone,” he began. “I did a talk at a high school today; Hank set up cameras, so I’ll be putting up a video of that soon.” He took a deep breath, let it out, and continued, “Don’t be frightened of the man in the back. I don’t think he intended to be scary.” But he had been. Also vaguely familiar… but that didn’t matter. Charles forced a smile. “I’m sorry this video is so short. I’ll make it up to you. Goodbye.

 

He was too tired to edit it. So he posted it, and changed into his pajamas, and took a nap.

 

He had a nightmare, but it was the same one he’d had since the accident, so he took no notice except to lock down his mental shields further.


	2. zwei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention but reminded by ma belle: I have no idea where this is set. I had a very clear location in my head, and then I threw all that out the window. So they're somewhere in the United States. Somewhere.

They went to the zoo, and immediately got in trouble.

Well, Erik did. He saw a man yelling at a little girl for being a freak when she was only asking for directions to the bathroom (her horns and her claws painted bright purple were actually kind of cute), and he saw red. Her little face was tear-stained and afraid and all he saw was his baby girl Wanda when she first came into her powers--

People were skittering out of Erik’s way, and then the yelling man looked up and paled.

Erik didn’t waste time with words. He just punched the man with all his strength, shaking out his hand as the other collapsed, stunned. Then Erik gentled his expression as he turned to the little girl and asked, “Who’d you come here with?”

“Daycare,” the little girl whispered, staring at him with wide eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw guards approaching, warily. “Wanda, Peter,” he called, and his children were immediately at his side. “Could you take her to the bathroom and then find her daycare group? I’ll deal with this scum.”

“Sure,” Peter said with a shrug. Wanda looked a little less convinced, but she glanced at the man on the ground and her face hardened, before she turned a sweet smile on the horned girl, who looked her over, then took her hand. The girls and Peter escaped as security approached and the man Erik had punched groaned, trying to sit up. Erik kept one eye on him, one on the guards.

“So what seems to be the problem?” one security guard asked cautiously.

Erik glanced at the man on the ground and looked back up, dismissively. “He was yelling at a child, calling her a freak,” Erik answered.

“Because she is!” the man snapped, then cowered as Erik turned a full glare on him.

“She is not,” Erik replied coldly. “She is different,  _ better _ , than you.”

“Is the child in question a mutant?” asked the other security guard.

Anger boiled more fiercely in Erik’s chest. “Does that change the fact that she was young and scared and did not deserve to be insulted and abused?” he snapped back.

“No, no,” the guard assured him hastily with wide eyes, “We have an anti-harassment policy. This guy gets banned, she gets free ice cream for life.”

“You--you can’t just--” spluttered the man who still hadn’t risen from the ground. Maybe Erik had punched him harder than he thought.

“We can and we will,” the first guard replied firmly, with a glare of her own. “Abusing a child is absolutely grounds for expulsion. This is a  _ zoo _ , sir. You have no power here. Now get up, we’ll escort you out.”

“My kids--”

“Did you come here with another adult?”

“Well, yes, but--”

“Then they don’t need you to find their way out,” the security guard answered calmly. The two guards each grabbed an arm, hauled the downed man to his feet, and “escorted” him away. Erik watched them go, still furious but hiding it better. Banned? Free ice cream? Were these the only repercussions? Rationally, he knew his fantasies of maximum-security prisons dedicated to those who mistreated mutant children were foolish, but that didn’t stop him from having them.

“Hey, dad!”

He snapped back to the moment. “Peter,” he greeted. “What is it?”

“We can’t find her daycare group, and it’s past the time they were supposed to leave,” Peter explained, jogging over. He looked just as angry as Erik felt, having obviously come to the same conclusion. They must have abandoned the poor child. Erik felt everything metal in a one-hundred yard radius begin to vibrate. “Dad? Dad!” Peter shook his arm and Erik stilled the metal with an effort. “Let’s just get her home, okay?”

He nodded, and followed Peter through crowds that continued to part for them. Peter must have run; it took a while to reach Wanda and the little girl, who were sitting on a bench. The little girl was crying again, and Wanda had one arm wrapped around her. Erik crouched in front of her and waited patiently until she looked up at him.

“Do you want to call your parents to come pick you up?” he asked her.

The little girl shook her head. “They’re at work,” she sniffled. “Th-they won’t come.”

“Should I call the daycare and tell them to come back for you?”

She nodded. “They’re nice,” she whispered, staring at her claws, “Just Miss Henny doesn’t like me.”

“Do you know the phone number?” Erik asked, drawing out his phone. The little girl nodded and recited it without hesitation; Erik had the feeling she’d had to do this before. He took a deep breath and the bench stopped humming to his senses. 

His tone was short and clipped, but reasonably polite, to the woman who answered the phone. She was polite back, but he could hear the anger in her voice, and he smiled grimly as she moved away from the phone and began shouting about responsibility and endangerment of children and how whoever she was shouting at was going to be fired. The little girl stared, as the shouting reached her ears. Wanda and Peter looked just as grimly satisfied as their father.

Finally the woman on the phone returned and said, slightly breathless, “I do apologize. We’ll be sending someone to pick her up right away. May I speak to her for a moment?”

“Of course,” Erik replied, and handed the phone to the little girl. She took it, looking nervous, but when she heard the voice on the other end she burst into fresh tears and began babbling in French. Erik understood it easily; apologies and promises to never be late again and basically a terrified child trying to stave off an adult’s anger. It took several minutes for her to calm down, Wanda stroking her hair soothingly as the woman on the phone spoke gently. Peter looked nervous, shifting from foot to foot. Erik took out his wallet and gave Peter a twenty-dollar bill.

“Get some ice cream?” he murmured.

“Sure thing,” Peter agreed, and bent down to ask the little girl, “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“R-rocky road,” she answered, surprised.

Peter smiled reassuringly. He was better at it than Erik. “Be back in a wink,” he told her, straightened, and vanished. Erik suspected him of running on top of fences, since no one was knocked over. The boy was too agile as well as too fast.

In the time it took for the little girl to blink, startled, Peter was back with the biggest bowl of rocky road flavored ice cream available. He grinned as her face brightened, and Erik gently took his phone back so she’d have two hands to eat it.

“Thank you very much for finding her,” the woman on the other end sighed. “And thank you for taking care of her.”

“Of course,” Erik replied. “Who’s coming to pick her up?”

“Joseph, he’ll be wearing a black jacket with an anarchy patch. He can find her no matter where she is.”

“We’ll stay right here then,” Erik decided.

“Alright. Again, thank you. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Erik hung up and looked up. Peter was sitting on the little girl’s other side, slouching, and he and Wanda were regaling her with tales of the mischief they’d gotten into at her age when Wanda manifested and Peter had been so jealous, but also so proud. Erik smiled a little. She looked much happier, eating her giant bowl of ice cream and listening to Wanda and Peter try to embarrass each other.

Erik stood over them, watching the crowd, feeling extremely protective all of a sudden. He was still angry at the humans who had abused this poor child, but he was also happy that his spawn were being kind to her.

“What’s your mutation, mister?” the little girl asked tentatively.

Erik smiled a little wider--not a grin though, didn’t want to scare her--and pulled his keys out of his pocket, floating them above his palm and making them whirl in a circle. He could tell there were some who were startled and uneasy about this display of power, but honestly, they didn’t matter. The little girl looked awed.

“Can you pick up big things, too?” she asked.

Erik nodded, letting his keys drop into his palm and lifting the metal bench without moving a muscle, very carefully, and only about an inch or two. She gasped and beamed at him.

“Telekin--kin--”

“Telekinesis,” Erik supplied. “Not quite.” He set the bench down again. “Magnetic field manipulation. I can control metal.”

“Could you let the animals out?” she asked eagerly

“I could, but I’m not going to.” Erik tucked his hands in his pockets and lifted an eyebrow. “They’re not really tame, you know,” he told her, trying for gentle. “They won’t want to play. Some will probably be scared.”

She pouted, but said nothing else on the subject.

When she finished the ice cream, Erik threw away the bowl and spoon for her, quickly, not wanting to leave her or his babies for too long. Magda would have laughed and teased him that his parenting instincts were stronger than a rhea’s. But he would have reminded her that hers were stronger than an elephant’s, and she would have joked that it had certainly felt like 22 months, carrying their little ones…

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” He blinked and looked down, realizing that he’d reached the bench and was scowling at the flow of humanity around them. The three youngsters were looking at him warily.

“You’re angry,” the little girl said quietly.

Erik took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the tension leave his face. “No. I’m not angry,” he reassured her. “I’m…”

“Mabel!”

The little girl brightened, and leapt from the bench, rushing to a man in a black leather jacket with an anarchy patch on it. He swept her up and hugged her tightly, then smiled at Erik, Wanda, and Peter.

“Thank you so much,” he told them earnestly, “We were wondering who to call when you did. Are you alright, Mabel?” he asked, loosening his grip on her so she could sit back in his arms and look him in the eye.

She nodded vigorously. “They gave me ice cream!” she told him, grinning with all her sharp, sharp teeth. Maybe she wouldn’t have been scared if Erik had grinned earlier. “A big bowl!”

“Oh no, you’re going to have a sugar-crash,” the man, Joseph, chuckled, but there was still worry in his eyes.

“Can I hug them goodbye?” Mabel asked Joseph. He blinked, then nodded and set her down. Wanda immediately slid to her knees and opened her arms. Mabel ran to her and hugged her tightly, then moved on to Peter, who ruffled her hair gently. Then she turned to Erik, eyeing him thoughtfully. He hesitated, then got down one knee and smiled a little when she threw herself at him. She smelled like brimstone and her arms were surprisingly strong around his neck.

“Thank you for punching him,” she said gravely when she pulled away.

Erik grinned. “My pleasure,” he replied.

Mabel’s eyes lit up and she grinned back. “You have shark-teeth too!” she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes. “Nobody has shark-teeth like me!”

“Well, at least three other people do,” Erik replied, nodding to Peter and Wanda, who both showed off their own teeth, just as sharp as Erik’s. “So don’t be afraid to show them off. And don’t be afraid of your mutation, either. People like that man are wrong. You’re fantastic just the way you are.”

Mabel looked at him for a moment. Then she planted a sticky kiss on his cheek and ran to Joseph, who waved awkwardly, took her hand, and lead the way away. She turned to wave too, and then the tide of humanity blocked her from view.

The Lehnsherr family stood, and kept walking through the zoo. Erik tucked his hands in his pockets. His children looped their arms through his and pressed close for a moment.

“Do you ever wish you had more kids?” Wanda asked.

Erik smiled faintly. “Sometimes,” he admitted, then took his hands out of his pockets and wrapped his arms around his kids’ shoulders. “But then I remember what little hellions you two were and I change my mind.”

And besides, his life was already so good. He had a job, and friends, and his children. Why should he want more?

He kissed both their heads, making them groan exaggeratedly, and let go, still smiling. Yes, he had everything. He didn’t need more.

~

Charles still looked a little tired, a little sad, when he updated, but he was as warm as always. Erik tried to watch the video in his office, while Wanda and Peter were playing Spyro, but they must have secondary mutations to do with mind-reading or super-hearing, because after barely a minute, they were hovering over his shoulders. He muffled an angry grunt and said nothing.

Charles was making a full meal, inspired by a German friend, and Erik watched with approval as Charles put together something that would not have disgraced Edie Lehnsherr’s table. Peter and Wanda watched as silently as Erik did. When Charles smiled and said goodbye, both of them looked at their father.

“Would Oma have made that?” Wanda asked.

“Yes,” Erik replied softly.

It had been because she was Jewish, Erik was sure; he’d known there were still Neo-Nazis around in their city, but he hadn’t known who exactly they were. And the man they’d arrested had been Mama’s friend, not her killer.

Erik had been fourteen when his Mama was shot in front of him.

He blinked and took a deep breath, then typed  ProfessorXavier chocolate chip cookies in the search bar.

After he calmed down, his children showed him funny cat videos (Erik had always liked cats, but not enough to have one of his own), then he let them draw on his iPad while he finished his latest design on the computer.

He wasn’t just Shaw’s lawyer and negotiator (Shaw called him his “balancer”), he was also taking an online graphic arts class with Berkeley College. He planned to move to New York as soon as Wanda and Peter were graduated and had chosen something to begin their lives with. He knew Wanda would go into music--of course she would, the way she practiced her violin at every opportunity--and he hoped Peter would go into something that would hold his interest. Erik couldn’t think of anything himself; his attention didn’t flicker like Peter’s, mind too fast to follow.

“Wanda,” Erik began slowly, finishing a curve just right, “Have you been using your powers lately?”

“Um,” she said. “Maybe?”

“I’m not going to ask how,” Erik assured her, glancing over at how his children were watching him. “I’m just curious. You haven’t been using it around the house lately, that’s all.”

Wanda fidgeted a little, then muttered, “Aunt Mindy doesn’t like it when I use my powers.”

“Ah.” Erik finished another perfect curve. “Collapsed another chair, did we.”

“It was  _ not _ my fault,” Wanda snapped, and flinched as Erik looked at her, frowning slightly.

Flinched. His baby girl had flinched from him. She had never done that before. Anger began to bubble in his stomach.

“Someone said it was,” he stated flatly.

Wanda looked down, rubbing her bicep. She’d been wearing long sleeves lately, though it was getting hot. Erik looked at Peter, who was doodling on the iPad, for once utterly still and expressionless except for his hand. He was constantly wearing his jacket too.

Someone had hurt his babies.

The instincts were clawing at his throat to find whoever had hurt his little ones and  _ kill them _ . He tried the breathing exercise; it didn’t help. Everything metal began to hum, and now his children actually looked scared, though they refused to meet his eyes.

“Who hurt you,” he rumbled.

“Aunt Mindy got rid of him,” Peter replied quickly, “She said she didn’t want another abusive asshole in her life.”

“ _ Who hurt you _ .”

Wanda reached out and tentatively touched his arm. “<He’s gone now, Papa,>” she said in German. “<And he won’t hurt anyone anymore.>”

Peter nodded vigorously. “<We made sure,>” he added.

Slowly, the bloodlust faded. He’d only felt this way twice around them; once at a PTC when their second grade teacher had admitted to “disciplining” them by cuffing them to the desks, once when he overheard a group of teenage boys talking about how they were going to catch them after school and beat them up for having a dirty mutant for a father. He’d known they could take care of themselves, Peter so fast and Wanda able to warp their realities, but he’d still almost beaten those boys himself.

But they’d said they’d made sure their abuser couldn’t hurt anyone else. He believed them. His Scarlet Witch and little Quicksilver.

He stood and walked over to hug them. He still felt taut with anger, but that finally faded when they hugged back.

“<Love you, Papa,>” Peter muttered.

“<I love you too, my darlings,>” Erik murmured, kissing both of them on the tops of their heads.

~

Erik had dreams of Magneto, the young revolutionary, fierce and murderous and under Emma’s reluctant thumb while Shaw held her hand down. Magneto, who had hated humans so fucking much, who had wanted to kill them all, who had--fallen in love.

Not all humans were evil. Magda taught him that. Beautiful Magda. But she was gone now, taken by sickness, left to die by doctors who had shrugged sadly and said they had no cure.

Erik woke with dried tears sticking his eyelashes together.

He got out of bed and went to the kitchen, snagging his laptop as he went. Cookies. Cookies would make everything better.

It was barely three in the morning, but in Charles’ kitchen it was early afternoon. Charles was nothing like Magda, except maybe for the sharp intelligence, quick wit, and the beauty of the light on his hair. It was safe to love him. Besides, it wasn’t like they’d ever meet.

Peter entered the kitchen, looking troubled. Erik pushed the bowl of eggs and milk and the whisk towards him with his powers. Peter began to beat them exactly the way Charles said to, while Erik sifted the dry ingredients.

Wanda joined them a little while later, giving them both a kiss on the cheek before grabbing the bag of powdered sugar. Erik would never know why she and Peter liked frosting on their chocolate chip cookies, but that was alright. He leaned back on the counter next to the oven and watched the image of his children making purple frosting, lit by the soft orange glow of his laptop screen. Charles smiled at the camera. From this angle, it looked like he was smiling right at the kids.

Erik quickly wiped his eyes and pretended everything was alright.

~

He got a call at 7AM from Emma as they were finishing off the cookies.

“You’re needed,” she told him, with that particular exasperated tone that meant Shaw had fucked up again. “There’s a mob boss  _ and _ a government official here glaring daggers at each other. Heads are gonna roll if you don’t get here. Literally.”

Erik sighed heavily. “On my way,” he said, and stood from the couch. “How’s ‘Zazel?”

“Nervous,” Emma replied promptly. “He really hates that government official.”

“Let me guess. Her last name is MacTaggert.”

“How did you--”

“I’ve dealt with her.” Erik opened his closet and got down one of his nicer suits. “She’s a tough one. She’d put a bullet between any of our eyes if it meant putting Shaw in jail.”

Emma snorted. “As if she could.”

“Don’t doubt her or she’ll do it,” Erik replied easily, heading for the bathroom. He had a lot of respect for MacTaggert; she’d put away half of Shaw’s contacts in her few years in the CIA, and they had not been sloppy. She’d also nearly been killed at least four times. Erik had stepped in the last time because he’d hate to see such a strong opponent dead by overeager underling. She owed him, and now the Underground knew that she had a powerful mutant on her side. Possibly the CIA knew too. Or not; she could keep her mouth shut on a lot of things.

“Do I have time for a shower?” Erik asked Emma.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll cover for you,” she promised with a sigh. “Just hurry.”

“Will do.”

When he was done showering and getting dressed, Wanda and Peter were cooking themselves breakfast. They hugged him tightly and quickly, and he headed out the door.

The moment he stepped out of the elevator on the floor of Shaw’s office, he could feel guns. He frowned and walked quickly down the hall, sending underlings scurrying. He watched their faces and scanned them for metal; no one he didn’t know. He straightened his jacket, smoothed back his hair, and entered the conference room with the guns.

He didn’t bother smiling, nodding curtly to the two groups squared off across from each other. MacTaggert and her three CIA subordinates barely glanced at him; Smith (not her real name) and her six underlings stared at Erik.

He walked to the end of the table not blocked by lawmakers and lawbreakers, and stared at them all until MacTaggert and Smith sat.

“Hello, everyone,” Erik greeted them, and then he smiled, his widest, sharpest, most sadistic smile. “What brings you to Shaw Unlimited this fine morning?”

~

Charles woke with a start on Raven’s couch.

Oh. That’s right. He’d gotten drunk after uploading his video, and Raven hadn’t let him go back to the hotel for the night. That was nice of her. He reached out cautiously, felt her mind, strong and sleepy as she made coffee. He withdrew from her and hid behind his walls again, closing his eyes and just breathing.

It was so quiet in his head behind his walls. He still wasn’t used to it. It was like walking through the old homestead in Westchester, so empty and dusty and cold. But it was better than feeling everything. The thin membranes that were his own awareness thrummed and ached, the scars still not fully healed.

He’d heard death before. He’d felt his father die, a sudden winking out of thought. He’d watched helplessly as his mother succumbed to drink, dimming her intellect, thoughts becoming sluggish and irritated, until finally they just sputtered out. He’d been to numerous hospitals, where there is someone dying just as often as there is someone being born. And it hurt every time.

But he’d never been so close to violent death.

He’d hit his head, but he hadn’t blacked out like they do in the movies or gotten a concussion. No, he’d just been laying there, trying to get his breath back, when the screams has started.

He didn’t realize he was shaking and crying until Raven was there, stroking his hair, murmuring soothingly. He latched on to her mind and its familiarity, buried himself in the connection between them (not her, though, no, he promised he would never get in her head and he never would), and cried and cried for the dead.


	3. drei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH NO IT GOT SAD

Erik came home at noon very grumpy.

Wanda and Peter were arguing, and the argument was escalating. Something about some boy Wanda was seeing. They stopped when Erik stomped into the living room without taking off his shoes or jacket.

“I’m moving to New York tomorrow,” he informed them tersely.

They stared at him, stunned into silence.

“I tried to postpone it,” Erik continued, “I gave every fucking excuse in the book, but I’m to start packing tonight. My fucking asshole boss is finding me an apartment. I’m sorry.”

“So you won’t be at graduation,” Wanda said numbly.

“No,” Erik replied.

“And you won’t rent the track or get Wanda a place with the orchestra,” Peter added, shoulders slowly slumping.

“No,” Erik repeated.

“Why?” Wanda and Peter asked in unison.

“Because my boss is in trouble and he wants us to spread out,” Erik answered bluntly. “Emma’s going to Paris, Azazel is going home to Moscow, Janos is visiting family in Eger, and Angel is staying with her friend here. She’s safe. We’re not.”

“No visiting?” Wanda asked.

“No.” Erik walked over and gathered them both into his arms, holding them close. “Not for a while, at least.”

His children hugged back, forgetting their earlier argument, or at least staving it off. “You’ll tell us when it’s safe?” Peter demanded, giving an extra squeeze.

“Absolutely. I’ll get you plane tickets.” He kissed them both on the head. “I talked him into getting me an apartment with three bedrooms, so you can stay over. But for now, help me with the boxes in the closet, please.”

They spent the rest of the day quietly, taping boxes together and filling them with books. Erik had been waiting for something like this to happen; he just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly.

He drove Wanda and Peter back to Mindy’s that night. Mindy glared at Erik disapprovingly when he told her he had to move to New York tomorrow.

“Quit your job,” she commanded bluntly.

“You don’t just ‘quit’ Shaw,” Erik snapped. “He’d never let me get another job.” Never mind the hitmen and -women at his disposal. But Mindy didn’t know about the mob.

Erik sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry, Mindy,” he said, the words rusty in his mouth. Apologizing to his children was easy; anyone else? Not so much. “I was going to move anyway, but something came up, and I have to leave as soon as possible.”

“What came up?” Mindy demanded.

Erik’s mouth tightened, and all he said was, “Take care. I’ll see if I can work something out for graduation.”

~

Erik did not get to go to Wanda and Peter’s graduation.

New York City was… different. More hostile. Oh, sure, there were pleasant people and “safe” neighborhoods. But Erik didn’t deal with those people, and he didn’t live in those neighborhoods.

Erik lived in a shit apartment in a shit building in a “bad” part of town. He distinguished himself early as a man not to mess with when a mobster tried to gun him down in the street for working for Shaw, and he deflected the bullets without even twitching. He further distinguished himself by talking to more than one boss, and surviving.

He talked to gangs, too, recruiting them, scaring them, soothing them. He talked to other lawyers. He talked to corrupt judges. He talked to Shaw’s people, who were everywhere. He talked and talked, smoothing ruffled feathers and assuring everyone on all sides that Shaw was on  _ their _ side.

He hated talking.

Eventually, though, Shaw put him in a new building, in an expensive part of town, because Shaw “would hate for his best negotiator to be murdered in the street”.

As if anyone could get close enough to kill Erik.

But Erik settled in easily. He was polite to the neighbors. He met with bigger bosses in clean clubs and posh parlors. He shut down multiple lawsuits with contracts and smiles that showed all his sharp, sharp teeth. Where money and smooth-talking had failed, Erik’s particular brand of intimidation always worked.

~

Two years had passed. Things had finally quieted down, and Shaw wasn’t in such deep shit. But it still wasn’t safe for Erik to move back. He was known, now, he was important, he was Shaw’s right-hand man in New York. It was wearing. He hated it.

The only bright spots in his days were Charles Xavier’s videos, and secure phone calls from his kids.

Charles kept coming up with new recipes, and Erik kept trying them. Some were things Erik had never tasted, never wanted to taste, and after eating them, decided to never taste again; but most were things he enjoyed. He even tried tempura squid, which he had sworn never to eat, and found it delicious. Maybe it was because eating it brought to mind the look of bliss on Charles’ face as he and his Japanese friend tried the fruits of their labors.

Wanda called him every week to tell him everything. Well, almost everything. There were some things she never said that Erik never asked about. Although she did call him in tears once and told him that her current boyfriend had called her a bitch and Peter had beaten him up.

Erik couldn’t stop himself from saying a curt, “Good for Peter.” Then he softened his voice and said, “I’m sorry, bubbeleh. I know you liked him. But if he’s calling you names, it’s time to move on.”

“It was just once,” Wanda insisted, but she sounded uncertain.

“Dump him, before once becomes twice becomes constantly.”

Wanda sighed. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. I love you, dad.”

“Love you too, schatz.”

Peter called him sporadically, sometimes a month between calls, sometimes a few days. He always had something that he was excited about: a new game, a new girl, a new job. Erik responded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which was never even close to Peter’s almost incoherent excitement, but at least he didn’t sound uninterested. Not that he was uninterested, he always wanted to know what was going on with his kids; but Peter could be overwhelming. He seemed to be reverting to his too-fast ways from childhood.

Erik missed both his children desperately.

~

He awoke one Saturday morning and shuffled to the kitchen for coffee, and turned around to see his friends standing in his living room, all of them grinning to some degree.

He grinned back. Angel’s hair was a little longer, and Janos’ was a little shorter, and Azazel’s beard had spread along his jaw, but Emma was exactly the same. And they were all here, gathered together, no one hurt or in pieces or dead. It made him feel a little warmer.

“Not until I’ve had my coffee,” he told them.

“We’ll make ourselves comfortable,” Emma replied, and immediately went to the recliner, dropping into it and crossing her ankles. The others went and sat as well, watching Erik as he poured five mugs of coffee. He’d find it creepy, if he weren’t so used to being watched with fear or hatred. Just being watched neutrally was a nice change.

“No cream in this apartment,” he informed them all, “But I have milk.”

“That’s fine,” Emma answered, “We’ve learned to do without.”

Erik smiled slightly. He put some milk in Emma’s mug anyway.

“Come and get it,” he said as he set the mugs on the kitchen island. This apartment was almost identical to his old one back home, and that made him feel… safer, for some reason.

Everyone stood eagerly and hurried over, standing at the island to drink their coffee. All five of Shaw’s favorites were silent again for a few moments, warming themselves up.

“You always did have good taste,” Azazel commented when he’d finished gulping his mugful.

“No, you guys just have bad taste,” Erik answered, feeling charitable and serene this morning. “Why are you here? Is Shaw opening an office?”

Everyone’s relaxed expressions became pinched and closed. Erik’s stomach curdled.

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” Janos replied.

“He said he likes what you did here,” Emma added. “And he’s in trouble again. He has to move.”

“Not here.” Erik’s fingers tightened around his mug. “Not fucking here.”

“Promised they could visit, did you?” Emma asked, with a sharp, humorless smile. “Don’t worry, he’s going to live on the mainland.”

“Less bustle, he said,” Azazel relayed sourly.

The bands around Erik’s lungs relaxed a little. Not in the city. Shaw wouldn’t be in the city. It would be marginally safe. He hadn’t realized how constantly terrified he’d been until he moved away. He’d grown so used to it he’d been numb. But even though this damn city was exhausting, at least he wasn’t scared.

He sipped his coffee and calmed his wildly-beating heart. “Alright,” he said.

Angel touched his arm very gently. “I think he’s scared of you,” she offered tentatively. “He always looks angry when he talks about you.”

“Which is a lot, by the way,” Emma joined in. “He’s convinced you’re the most important of us all.”

Erik cracked a tiny smile. “He’s always been delusional,” he muttered. Then he sighed. “Alright. Where are the new offices?”

They told him, and gave him directions, and then Azazel whisked them all away. Erik waved away the smoke and went to shower and get dressed.

He watched the latest video with Charles when he was dressed cozily.

“Hello, everyone!” Charles greeted, his smile so bright and beautiful. “This is going to be a three-part series on steak, and different ways to prepare it. I got the idea from a friend at the local meat market. First, let’s start off with T-bone.”

Erik propped his chin on his fist and smiled. Charles made everything better.

~

A few weeks later, he decided to make an old favorite, so he drove to the only grocery store he’d been able to find that was close by and carried kosher foods, and got searching for the ingredients. He’d been having a bad week, what with a deal turning sour and multiple people pulling guns on him (really, you’d think they’d learn by now), so he wanted comfort food. Something warm and filling and noodle-based.

He was comparing sauces when someone bumped into him and he dropped his basket.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!” the man gasped, stooping to help Erik pick up his dropped items. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me today, I’ve been bumping into people left and right--hello, do I know you?”

Erik looked up, ready to snarl at the bastard--but the snarl died in his throat and to his horror and shame, he felt a blush creep into his cheeks. He showed no emotions other than vague annoyance though. “I don’t think so,” he replied to Charles Xavier, and snatched up a package of noodles.

Charles frowned, then smiled, his face lighting up. “You’re one of Angel’s friends!” he burst out.

Erik froze and stared at him. “...Excuse me?”

“Oh, sorry, one of her coworkers. She and my sister Raven are friends.” He stuck his hand out. “Charles Xavier.”

Erik dropped the noodles back in his basket and shook the offered hand. “Erik Lehnsherr.”

“So you’re the one she--never mind. Goodness, Angel said you were tall, but I didn’t expect her to mean six feet.” Charles squinted up at him. “Ah. That’s why I didn’t recognize you at first,” he said, “You cut your hair since the last photo she sent.” Charles whipped out his phone, while Erik stood there, awkward and bewildered, and made an exclamation of triumph when he found what he was looking for. “Ah ha! See?”

He held out his phone, and Erik took it gingerly. It was on a photo that Angel had probably taken on the sly a few days ago, of Erik and Emma sitting in the breakroom talking. She’d caught Erik mid-smile. He didn’t like that.

“She could’ve asked before taking a picture,” he muttered gruffly, handing the phone back. Instead of looking putoff, Charles seemed sympathetic.

There was another awkward silence, and Erik was thinking of excuses for leaving when Charles blurted what was obviously the first thing that came to mind.

“What are you making?” As a conversation starter it wasn’t very good, but Erik didn’t mind.

“Lasagna. I found a recipe I wanted to try.” It was Charles’ recipe, but he didn’t say that. “I still haven’t decided if I want to make the whole thing or halve it.”

“How many are you cooking for?”

“Just me.”

Charles cocked his head and looked at Erik calculatingly. “You should probably just halve it,” he advised. “Otherwise you’ll wind up with too much left over and then you’ll get sick of it.”

Erik shrugged. “I’d just give some to my coworkers. They’d eat it. But I see your point.” He frowned down at his basket. He might not need that second jar of sauce, then. He took it out and put it back on the shelf, tugging the hem of his shirt down again. Damn these polos for always being too short. But he hadn’t done laundry last night, so he was stuck with too-small clothes.

Charles was biting his lip, but he stopped and smiled when Erik met his eyes again. G-d in heaven they were so  _ blue _ . “S-so have you spoken to Angel lately?” Charles asked, the stutter barely audible. “She and Raven had an argument and won’t call each other.”

“Ah. That would probably be why she’s been snappish at everyone except Emma. She will probably feel better by Wednesday,” Erik calculated, counting days. He’d noticed that Angel’s ire usually lasted about nine days before fizzing out. “She told Emma in my hearing that she was waiting until they were both calmer.”

“Oh, good.” Charles seemed relieved. “Raven’s been fretting and getting angry again in turn for days. She won’t tell me what they fought about, either. Oh well, that’s their business.” Charles glanced at his watch and the corners of his mouth turned down. “I have to hurry. It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Lehnsherr. Give my best to Angel?”

“Of course. Nice to meet you too, Mr. Xavier.”

Charles smiled, bright and charming, and hurried away.

Erik stood there for another minute or two, absorbing the fact that he’d literally bumped into the man he loved. Then he got moving again, and gathered his ingredients and went through self-checkout and went home.

~

Three days later, he called his children.

“Guess what.”

“What, dad?”

Erik grinned at the coffee cake he’d made that morning. “I have the money for plane tickets,” he replied.

Wanda gasped. “We can come visit now?!” she asked excitedly.

“Whoa, what?” Peter’s voice exclaimed (loudly) beyond Wanda. “We can go visit?!”

“Yes,” Erik replied smugly.

“Hold on, lemme put you on speakerphone!” Some fumbling, and then a boop as Wanda pressed the right button. “Aunt Mindy! Aunt Mindy, dad says we can go visit!”

“About time,” Mindy snapped, but there was a fondness in her voice. “Erik, why exactly did it take this long?”

“When can we come over?” Peter asked almost immediately after her.

“Working and classes,” Erik answered Mindy, referring to the fact that he’d been taking classes at Berkeley for a long while now, “You remember school during the day and working nights.”

Mindy sighed. “Yes, I remember.”

“And you can come whenever you have time,” Erik answered Peter. “You can stay two weeks, but after that I make no guarantees if I’ll have steady hours.”

Peter whooped, Wanda laughed, and Erik felt so happy. His babies were coming to visit. It warmed his cold, dead heart.

They decided on a month and a half out, so Wanda and Peter could save up spending-money and put in requests for time off from their jobs, and Erik could make sure it was  _ completely _ safe. Everyone was a little disappointed, but ultimately agreed that this was sensible.

Erik still walked on air for days after that.

It helped that he bumped into Charles again that Sunday, when Erik was looking over the lettuce and deciding that all the options looked a little unappetizing. He turned around and took a step away, and knocked his elbow against someone else’s.

“Oh, sorry,” Charles exclaimed, almost an automatic response; and then he recognized Erik and his beautiful blue eyes lit up. “Mr. Lehnsherr! Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s outside my usual hours, yes,” Erik replied, feeling a blush steal across his cheeks and fill the tips of his ears. “Um.”

“What are you making this time?” Charles asked.

“Ah, I was going to make a Thai kind of salad--I have friends coming over and one is vegetarian. But, well, everything looks a little past its prime.”

“Oh, I do like that,” Charles murmured, as if to himself, then smiled again. “There’s still some good ones here. Let me show you, so you’ll know next time.”

Erik nodded, slightly dazed, and Charles taught him how to tell rubbish lettuce from the good stuff. It was surprisingly interesting. Or maybe that was just Charles’ accent and the way he talked about food. Charles even whipped out a pen and a pad of paper and wrote down a recipe for Erik right there in the middle of the grocery store. He wrote quickly, but still legible. He had very nice hands.

They parted ways with a handshake, and for one giddy moment Erik considered never washing that hand again; but that was a silly way to think. So he finished shopping and left.

He smiled all the way home, though.

He ran into Charles many more times after that at the grocery store (thankfully not literally). Charles always wanted to stop and chat, which usually would have made Erik angry; but he felt his voice and face soften just a bit around Charles, and he found that he  _ wanted _ to bump into him.

He began trying to time it so he could meet him every time he went. He asked sly questions and got slightly puzzled but ultimately unsuspicious answers. He learned that Charles always came on the Sunday of every week; that he always came around four, so as to miss the evening rush, although sometimes he was late and got caught in it; and that he loved food very much, but he liked taking walks even more, which was why he was only soft, not pudgy.

Soft. Erik wanted to touch him and find out how soft, but that was entirely Not Allowed. So he didn’t.

He realized on the evening that he first tried to rearrange his weekend schedule that that was the week during which Wanda and Peter would be staying with him.

Uh-oh.

~

He picked them up Friday evening, meeting them at the terminal and receiving two strong hugs. He hugged back hard, making them both laugh wheezily, and then they went to Erik’s car. Several people had tried to convince him to get a big car that would make a statement. Instead he’d gotten a smaller city car, and Wanda and Peter laughed when they saw it.

“You can fit in that?” Peter teased.

“Absolutely,” Erik answered serenely. “The question is, can you?”

“Shotgun!” Wanda cried. Peter shot her a dirty look and wrinkled his nose. Erik chuckled. He missed his spawn.

They chatted sporadically, Wanda and Peter often taking breaks to stare out at the city. Erik, who’d gotten used to it in a few months, couldn’t help smiling. There was something sweet in the way his twenty-year-old children gazed at the city, awed.

“Wow, this is fancy,” Wanda commented when they reached Erik’s apartment building.

“How much does it  _ cost _ ?” Peter asked, awed all over again.

“Too much,” Erik replied, climbing out of his car. “Come on, let’s get your things put away and we can go get dinner.”

“You’re not cooking?” Peter inquired.

“I want you to tell me if this little sandwich shop I found is truly a gift from above or if it’s just me,” Erik answered. A complete lie; he knew the shop was a gift. He was just tired of cooking, and he wanted to see the delight on their faces again when they went through the city.

They exclaimed over the size of the building, the spaciousness of the apartment itself, and both whooped happily to find that they would have separate rooms, fully furnished. Erik’s face hurt from smiling continuously.

After everything was put away, Erik walked them to the little sandwich shop that he had discovered by smell one morning. There was absolutely no parking for this tiny place. Peter and Wanda chattered and pointed things out to each other and got their dad to regale them with tales of how he’d gotten lost quite a few times he first few months and that was how he’d found so many interesting places. He told them about his classes at Berkeley, too, how he was the oldest student and therefore the others were terrified of him, but he was building an excellent portfolio.

“Are you thinking of quitting?” Wanda asked, frowning worriedly.

Erik hesitated. “Not particularly,” he answered slowly, “But there will come a time when I’m no longer useful in my current field. I need something to fall back on. Unlimited is always looking for underlings. I could get a job in the marketing department easily enough.”

Neither of his children asked why he couldn’t just move to a different company. He’d already explained that he couldn’t explain, and they had drawn their own conclusions. They didn’t love him any less for that, though, and Erik was forever grateful.

Wanda and Peter loved the little shop. They told the husband and wife duo who had made the sandwiches, who also happened to be the owners, that they must be angels in disguise sent specifically to make people happy via sandwich. The wife laughed, the husband beetled his brow at them and scowled, but the expression softened into a genuine smile after a moment. Erik looked at his children and felt a swell of pride and love;  _ he _ may make a living with fear and anger, but his children were destined to make people smile.

They walked home, and took the stairs, racing each other up the steps to each floor. Peter won every time, of course, but Erik was pleasantly surprised to see Wanda beating Erik too.

“No comments on age,” he told them sternly when they reached his floor, pointing at them both. “I haven’t been jogging lately, that’s all.”

“Riiiight,” Peter drawled.

“Whatever you say, dad,” Wanda added sweetly.

Erik chuckled and hugged them both for a moment before leading the way to his door.

They baked cookies, Charles’ soothing voice in the background. Wanda and Peter still gave Erik sly looks, but he didn’t mind. Then they watched a silly movie on Netflix, and Erik almost fell asleep, worn out from a week of getting things squared away for the visit. Wanda and Peter poked his sides until he got up and went to bed, telling them not to stay up too late.

They didn’t listen. Of course they didn’t. But it was enough knowing they were with him and safe. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

~

Charles came home from work on Friday to find Raven and Angel in his kitchen, drinking wine and gossiping.

“Hello, what’s this?” Charles asked, surprised, as he walked over and picked up the glass that had obviously been taken down for him. “I thought you weren’t talking to each other.”

Angel and Raven both gave him annoyed looks. “We changed our minds,” Angel answered.

“Yes, it’s much more fun gossiping with each other than our coworkers,” Raven agreed, taking a sip of wine and picking up the bottle to pour Charles a glass. “We were talking about the guy Angel has a crush on.”

“Oh?” Charles replied, smiling slightly as Angel blushed. Her mind was flushed with embarrassment, but no anger.

“Yes,” Angel muttered, faking annoyance. “He invited his kids over for a couple weeks, and it’s all he talks about, when he talks at all. His wife died, but he couldn’t take care of them, so they’ve been staying with his wife’s friend, I think? Anyway, they’re twenty now and he still acts like they’re kids. I wonder if they hate him.”

Charles nodded and drank his wine. He still hadn’t told Raven that he’d been seeing Mr. Lehnsherr at the grocery store. Should he tell them both, right now? What harm could it do?

“I saw him at the store the other day,” he commented.

Raven and Angel stared at him.

“...What?” he asked, bewildered.

“And you didn’t  _ tell _ me?” Raven demanded, swatting his arm hard.

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Charles protested. “It was just a chat.”

Angel scowled at him, and this time she really was annoyed. “He didn’t tell anyone at work,” she grumbled. “He would’ve recognized you, I’m sure.”

“Why?” Charles asked, “He didn’t act like he did.”

“He watches your cooking videos  _ constantly _ ,” Angel informed Charles. “Every time we go ‘round to his place for dinner he’s got one of your videos playing.”

“...Oh.” Charles was silent, absorbing this. He’d noted that Mr. Lehnsherr had been rather blushy, and that he didn’t seem the kind of man to blush often. But he hadn’t given away that he knew who Charles was at all. And Charles had rules for engaging with strangers. No mental searches, nothing more than a quick prod to check their mood. And Mr. Lehnsherr’s mood… had always been mixed and muddy. And not in a bad way.

Angel and Raven were staring at him, judging. Charles blushed. “Well,” he said. “Um.”

“If you hurt him,” Angel began, pointing at him sternly, “I’m going to shave your head.”

“I will not hurt him,” Charles promised, blushing deeper. “I… I suppose I’ll just pretend I don’t know.”

Angel and Raven eyed him. Then Angel nodded sharply and picked up her glass again, gulping wine. Raven glanced between them, then also nodded, slowly.

Charles escaped to his desk and began grading papers.

Angel crashed on the sofa after drinking most of the wine. Raven leaned her hip on the edge of Charles’ desk and watched him closely for a while. He looked up finally, blinking to get the haze of printed words out of his eyes. “Yes?” he asked carefully.

Raven shook her head. “Nothing. Just… be careful, okay?”

Charles frowned slightly. “Careful?” he repeated. “Why should I have to be careful?”

Raven sighed and stroked his hair away from his forehead. “You’re an idiot,” she proclaimed, and walked away.

Charles shook his head, frowning.

~

That night, Charles had the nightmare for the first time in two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is so fluffy it gave me a toothache, so watch out for that. :D Four more pages and it shall be ready for consumption!
> 
> Comments = Life, Love, and Happiness!


	4. vier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW we have a bit of mature content, at the end. I hope y'all don't mind. And it's really long. Like, twice as long.
> 
> Also I lied. You'll see.

Erik stared into his empty pantry.

Well, it was far from empty; there were snacks, and the broom and mop, and the pressure cooker and the crockpot and the spare coffee-maker. There was rice, and several cans of different kinds of beans. There was tomato sauce and Cracklin Oats cereal. But nothing he wanted to eat.

The fridge had been the same: half-barren, with things he didn’t want in the slightest. He had to admit defeat. It was time to go grocery shopping.

Well… at least it was Sunday. He glanced at the clock, and brightened a little. Four o’clock. If he hurried… 

He went to put his shoes on.

“Where’re you going?” Wanda asked curiously, as she and Peter stopped complaining about how their bosses refused to give them more hours yet were suspiciously lenient when it came to time off.

“Grocery store,” Erik replied absently.

“Need any help, old man?” Peter asked.

“No, I’ll be fine, and I’m not old yet,” Erik replied, pretending to be irritated. His children saw right through it of course. They also seemed to see something else, though, because Wanda reminded him slyly, “You’ve never said that before.”

“What, that I’m not old?” Erik asked, deciding that playing dumb was really his best defense at the moment.

“No, that you don’t need help. You  _ always _ bring us with you.”

“No I don’t,” he replied, puzzled. “Do I?”

His children nodded.

“Oh.” He finished tying his shoes. “Well, you don’t need to come this time. Tell me what you want and I’ll put it on my list.”

“Oh my lord.” Wanda seemed struck by some piece of knowledge. “Oh my  _ lord _ .”

Erik did not answer as he pulled on his jacket.

“You  _ met _ someone!” Wanda squealed, bouncing in her seat.

“ _ What?! _ ” Peter exclaimed, his head whipping around to stare at his father. “At the grocery store?!”

“I didn’t meet anyone,” Erik snapped, settling his jacket better. “I’m just saying--”

“Is it a she, a he, or a they?” Wanda asked excitedly.

“I didn’t--”

“DAA-AAAD!” both of his children interrupted, rolling their eyes.

Erik looked away, so they wouldn’t see the set of his mouth or the look in his eyes. Usually he tried to pretend to be angry, but… he felt his shoulders slump.

“It’s a he,” he said softly.

His children were silent. He didn’t dare look at them, floating his keys off the hook and to his hand. “Won’t be long,” he told them gruffly, and stepped outside.

He was just about to climb into his car when suddenly Peter and Wanda were standing there, grinning like the shark pups they were. He stared at them.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Pleeeease?” they wheedled in unison. It was really creepy when they did that.

“No.”

“But dad, if you really like this guy--”

“No.”

“--Shouldn’t we meet him?”

“No.”

“You’re our dad, though! We gotta screen him!”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna keep saying no, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Erik got in his car, but before he could lock the the doors he heard the click of two seatbelts and glanced in the rearview mirror to see his children already there. 

“I said no!” he snapped, exasperated.

They just grinned.

“You do not get to talk to him,” Erik growled, turning the key, “Beyond giving a greeting and your name. If you speak I will not make scrambled eggs tomorrow.”

“What if we recognize him?” Peter asked slyly. Wanda giggled.

Erik’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, but he said nothing.

The car was silent the whole drive there. When he parked and they got out, he noticed his children were casting him strange looks. He tried to ignore them, but--

“Erik!”

He turned sharply, and he really couldn’t help the way his shoulders relaxed and his face went from tight and angry to a slight smile. “Charles,” he said, feeling an odd kind of warmth in his chest.

Charles was beaming unabashedly, wavy hair no longer getting in his eyes and making him look like a teenager (though he still looked younger than he was), and the first thing he said was, “Are these the twins?”

Wanda and Peter grinned and shot Erik identical triumphant looks. Erik did not blush, but it was a near thing. “Yes, these are my terrors, Peter and Wanda. Peter, Wanda, this is Charles.”

“How do you do,” Wanda greeted him warmly.

“Nice to meet ya,” Peter said cheerfully.

Charles beamed at them both. “How do you do, nice to meet you too. Erik’s told me a little about you, but not much. Are you still making music?”

Wanda and Peter glanced at Erik. He nodded, grudgingly.

That opened the floodgates. Charles barely said a word to Erik, engaged in conversation with Erik’s evil, evil children. They weren’t as subtle at drawing out information as Erik, but he’d taught them some tricks, and by the time they’d reached the back of the store (Erik worked from the back forwards, it was just easier), they knew he was a genetics professor at Columbia, he had a sister whose best friend worked with their father, his sister was two years younger than him and adopted but he loved her very much, and he was working on getting his doctorate in psychology. All things Erik knew, but it had taken him a little longer to learn than just a few minutes.

Erik took a cart, since he had to feed three mouths for a week, and Peter burned way too much energy. When Wanda and Charles started discussing literature, Peter trotted up to Erik and said, “Dad, I’m gonna take a few laps.”

“Outside please, around the building,” he answered. “Less people.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but then he kind of flickered as he left and returned almost immediately.

“Better?” Erik asked.

“A little,” Peter answered.

“Take a few more when you need to.”

Peter grinned at him. “You’re the best, dad. We’re getting Twinkies, right?”

Erik resisted the urge to smirk. It felt good to be called the best. “Yes.”

Peter flickered again, looking a little more relaxed. Erik never asked how many laps he had taken. He seemed to be getting faster all the time. Erik was proud of him.

Charles and Wanda caught up again, and Charles asked Erik, “What’s your opinion on “Of Mice and Men”?”

“Boring,” Erik answered without having to think about it. He’d read it multiple times as a kid, trying to find all the meanings in it, but there weren’t many. “Good enough for middle schoolers, I suppose.”

“Hmm. I don’t think some of the themes are appropriate for middle schoolers, but I agree, it is a little…” Charles paused, fishing for the right word.

“Dragging?” Peter suggested, flickering again. “Simple?”

Charles smiled. “Simple, yes.”

Peter and Wanda nodded vigorously, while Erik’s nod was more sedate. He’d always been glad his children had inherited his views when it came to books, although they both still loved to thumb through Magda’s collection of romance novels. She and Erik used to read through them and laugh together at how silly they were, but Erik knew she’d enjoyed them thoroughly even with the silliness.

He blinked and found that all three of the others were watching him. He scowled faintly, and Wanda and Peter broke into grins, while Charles smiled softly. He was starting to see through Erik’s faked irritation too. That… warmed Erik a little.

The children and Charles continued to talk all the way through the store, and Erik found their chatter soothing, because they were people he loved. He’d fallen hard and fast for Charles, and he loved his children so much.

Absently he reached out, and Wanda obliged him with a hug. She was always the one to give Erik hugs when he needed them.

“Hey dad! I have a new pun!” Peter exclaimed.

“Uh-oh,” Erik murmured, smiling slightly. Peter’s puns were always terrible.

“What country has the fastest growing population?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Ireland, it’s Dublin every year.”

Charles laughed, short and surprised and sweet, and Wanda giggled. Erik rolled his eyes and ruffled Peter’s hair, making him yelp and duck. He could’ve avoided it, he saw it coming before Erik moved a muscle, but he didn’t, for appearance’s sake. 

Lord, Erik loved his children.

Through checkout, somehow, Wanda and Peter convinced Charles that he should come over for dinner on Wednesday, so they could show Charles the ridiculousness that was the Avengers documentary. Charles had Netflix, but he’d never bothered to watch it; and he smiled as he promised not to watch it beforehand. Erik almost got distracted by that smile, but he had to pay for his groceries, and then they were off to the parking lot. Charles only had four bags and a gallon of milk, so he bid them a warm goodbye and went to find his own car while Erik and the twins filled the trunk of Erik’s.

“I like him,” Wanda announced as they buckled in.

“Me too,” Peter agreed.

“Good,” Erik said softly, and drove home.

They put everything away together, and Wanda and Peter gave their father tips on asking “people” on dates. Erik put up with it because he loved these monsters. And now, with their permission granted… well…

No, it was a terrible idea. Absolutely terrible. Completely, utterly, immensely terrible.

“A terrible idea,” he muttered to himself firmly as he put away the milk.

Wanda and Peter’s heads whipped around and they both narrowed their eyes at him. “Are you talking yourself out of asking him on a date?” Wanda demanded.

“Yes,” Erik replied bluntly, turning around and putting on his most stubborn expression. “He’s coming over Wednesday. That’s good enough.”

Wanda put her hands on her hips. Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

“Dad,” Wanda said flatly.

“Wanda,” Erik said, just as flat.

“Just. Ask. Him. Out.”

“Why should I?” Erik demanded. “And even if I did, what makes you think he’ll say yes?”

Wanda and Peter glanced at each other, probably having a secret sibling conversation. Peter was the one who answered, “You should do it because you really like him and you’ve been alone for  _ years _ .”

“And if he says no?” Erik prompted, deciding that the argument about how he liked being alone could wait. 

“He’ll still be your friend,” Wanda answered confidently.

“No he won’t. It’d be too strange.”

“You taught us to read people. Are you  _ sure _ he’s the kind of person to find friendship awkward after a simple coffee date?”

Erik hesitated. Charles was kind and intelligent and had common sense. Maybe he really wouldn’t mind. Maybe he’d turn Erik down gently instead of with painful awkwardness. And then they could keep being friends. Erik really wanted to be friends, even if he never had the chance to be with Charles as more than that.

His children were watching him. He tried to glare, but it held no real anger, so he stopped.

“Should I ask when he leaves on Wednesday?” he asked them.

Both of them split into wide grins. “Yes,” Peter answered.

“Okay.” Erik squeezed his eyes shut, and attempted to steel himself for what he was about to say. “Help me come up with a way to ask him.”

Wanda clapped, Peter laughed, and both of them dragged him to the living room to sit him down and give him a lesson in How To Ask For Coffee. Their advice seemed fairly contradictory, and they often stopped to argue with each other, but eventually they got Erik to write down a script. They laughed at what he wrote, which made him grumpy, but assured him that Charles would find it charming, which was all he cared about.

Then they all went to bed. Erik had gotten the week off to show his kids around, but Shaw had wagged his finger with a patronizing smile and told Erik that he would be calling him in for emergencies, if they arose.

“They won’t,” Erik had replied. He’d made sure of that.

~

Wednesday morning, Erik was nervous.

By 10:30AM, Erik was  _ very _ nervous.

By 1:13PM, Erik was nervous enough to have kittens.

By 3PM, he was so extremely nervous that Wanda had to gently pry his glass of pepsi out of his hands before he cracked it with his increasingly tight grip and Peter told him all about the antics of Mindy’s daughter, who was ten years old and getting into all kinds of mischief.

At 5:30 there was a knock at the door. Erik would’ve run for the door, but he was finishing up cooking dinner and couldn’t leave it. So he waited to look up until Wanda and Peter had finished their greetings and were leading Charles into the apartment.

Charles was dressed nicely, but not  _ too _ nice. Erik tried not to stare, but that sweater vest was the exact blue of Charles’ eyes, and his trousers hugged him so nicely, and his smile was so bright as he spoke to Peter and Wanda.

And when Charles looked at him, Erik felt his nervousness rachet up a little--before suddenly lessening, and he managed a small smile back, before he went back to cooking.

Everything was finished now, though, so he said, “Peter, Wanda,” and they were there at his sides to take the serving dishes to the table.

Charles was seated, looking amused as the Lehnsherr family ferried food to the table, then sat. Wanda and Peter chose to sit across from each other, which meant Erik was across from Charles.

“This looks  _ amazing _ ,” Charles exclaimed, smiling at the three of them.

“It’ll taste even better,” Peter replied smugly, filling his plate. “Dad had great teachers.”

“Stop embarrassing him,” Wanda admonished cheerfully, passing Erik the bread knife.

“Ungrateful,” Erik grumbled, slicing the bread just so. He couldn’t help it, Papa had drilled it into him, young though he’d been.

Charles chuckled, then nibbled his gedempte fleisch . His face lit up. “Oh! This is delicious!” he exclaimed. “May I have the recipe?”

Erik felt the traitor blush creep into his cheeks again. “Thank you, and yes, of course.” He’d done only recipes his mother had taught and passed down to him, because he’d needed the comfort and familiarity.

Conversation was bright and unforced, Charles so comfortable here that Erik relaxed too. He told Charles perhaps a little too much about himself; but, well, Charles was so open, and had such an attentive air, Erik wanted to tell him everything. Only decades of keeping it behind his teeth kept him from saying too much.

“How do you have time for work and school?” Charles asked Erik, surprised and seemingly fascinated when Erik admitted to taking classes on the sly so his employer wouldn’t find out and make him stop.

“I make my own hours usually,” Erik answered with a shrug, “Unless there’s an emergency. There were a lot of those when I first moved here, but it’s calmed down now.”

Charles cocked his head thoughtfully, but did not say what he was thinking. Instead he asked, “What degree are you working towards?”

“Master’s.”

“That’ll take quite some time.”

“I have time,” Erik answered, then remembered how utterly untrue that statement was. “Well, no, I don’t, but I can make time.”

“You’ll wear yourself out,” Charles replied, almost chided, frowning slightly.

“It’ll be worth it,” Erik retorted grimly.

Wanda finished her juice and asked brightly, “Do you wanna watch that movie, Mr. Xavier?”

“Hold on, shouldn’t we help clean up?” Charles inquired, obviously amused out of his frown.

“I’ll do the clean-up,” Erik answered, gathering Wanda and Peter’s empty plates and used silverware. “You three go ahead.”

“I insist,” Charles said firmly.

So all four of them put away leftovers, although Erik put his foot down when Charles tried to help wash dishes. “Guests don’t clean. I’ll finish this.”

Charles smiled softly (and… sadly?) and let Wanda and Peter drag him away as Erik started rinsing dishes. He emptied the dishwasher of the load of cooking things after rinsing and wiping his hands, and filled it with the newly dirtied dishes. Then he made popcorn because why not? By the time he was done with that, the documentary had been found and started. Also, the sofa held all three of his guests--and they looked at him with innocent expectation as he blinked at the empty space between Charles and Peter.

“Ah,” he said, feeling the blush begin again.

“Sit, dad,” Peter ordered, pointing to the empty spot.

Erik shook his head and tried to edge past them to the recliner, setting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. He realized he should have gone behind when Charles and Peter grabbed his shirt and pulled him down onto the sofa.

The sofa was barely long enough to accommodate them all comfortably, and Erik felt his ears turn even redder as his arm brushed against Charles’. He tried to stand, but Peter and Charles each grabbed an elbow and held him down. Wanda giggled. Erik sighed heavily, accepting his fate and relaxing back into the cushions.

The documentary had lots of footage of the Avengers fighting and destroying the city. This was several years ago, but Erik knew there was still rebuilding going on. He’d passed some of it on his walks. He didn’t like the Avengers, he thought they were all assholes; but, then again, he and his coworkers were assholes, too. Worse, in fact. Azazel had never minded killing, sometimes enjoyed it, and Janos was fine with using his powers for destructive purposes. Emma was a sadistic horror on occasion, and Erik…

Well.

“I used to be friends with Tony Stark,” Charles commented suddenly when the documentary ended.

“What!” Wanda exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. “ _ The _ Tony Stark? Iron Man himself?”

“Holy shit!” Peter cried gleefully.

Charles smiled shyly, and the prettiest blush filled his cheeks. “Yes, we, um. We were sort of dating, for a while,” he admitted. “And then he met Rhodes. I’m not jealous, but I do wish Tony had told me himself instead of asking Pepper to.”

“Oh.” Wanda and Peter made identical faces of distaste. “Tony Stark’s an asshole,” Peter said bluntly.

“Yeah, you could do way better,” Wanda added.

Charles’ smile widened. “Raven said the same thing. Good to know it’s a general consensus and not just her being protective.”

“What did you even see in him?” Erik asked, and was very proud of himself for keeping his cool and seeming curious instead of jealous.

Charles shrugged. “He’s immensely smart, he’s got a good heart when he’s not being a pretentious wanker, and I thought I…” Charles trailed off and cleared his throat, then added, “And the sex was nice, so there’s that.”

Erik considered asking for clarification on what Charles had thought, but no, that would be prying, and he didn’t want to pry. His brain stuttered and almost shorted out when Charles curled his hand around Erik’s elbow. Touching. Charles was touching him. Oh lord, he really was gone on him, wasn’t he?

“Let’s watch another movie,” Peter declared, snatching the big bowl of popcorn and beginning to chow down.

“I have work tomorrow,” Charles informed them all regretfully. Then suddenly his expression grew stubborn, and his hand tightened on Erik’s elbow, and he said, “But my TA can handle the first class if I’m late.”

Wanda and Peter whooped, and Wanda passed Charles the remote.

They watched an 80s movie that Erik didn’t even remember the name of, then Peter insisted on The Great British Baking Show. Erik’s stomach rumbled, and he flushed painfully as the others laughed at him, but Charles took pity and suggested the four of them bake something. Immediately the twins leapt to their feet and grabbed their dad’s arms.

“Make a cake, dad! Make a cake like Oma would’ve!”

So Erik taught his children and Charles how to make his mother’s favorite chocolate cake. Erik got to show off his powers, too, catching a bowl of batter before it could spin off the edge of the counter and drawing it back.

“Sorry, dad,” Peter muttered, shamefaced; he’d been stirring pretty vigorously.

Erik just ruffled his hair.

“Telekinesis?” Charles asked, tilting his head a little as he looked at Erik.

“Magnetic field manipulation,” Erik replied.

Charles smiled, slow and bright. “I’ve never met anyone with that kind of mutation before.”

Erik usually smirked and preened when people said that; now he blushed faintly and looked down at the block of chocolate he’d been cutting shavings off of. He let go of the knife and it kept shaving. “It’s… not particularly spectacular,” he muttered.

“He can deflect bullets,” Peter offered, grinning sunnily as Erik shot him a deadly glare.

“I don’t even want to know how that was found out,” Charles murmured, but the admiration in his eyes went up a notch and Erik blushed harder.

When the cake was in the oven Peter and Wanda insisted on frosting, though Erik had only ever had it plain and honestly preferred it that way. But Charles smiled and showed them a new recipe, and it was good, so Erik grudgingly consented to allowing his children to smother their grandmother’s cake in frosting.

Erik allowed food that wasn’t movie-snacks in the living room  _ just this once _ and they ate cake while they watched the British Baking Show. When they were done, Erik felt sleepy and sated; the tension was creeping out of him, making him feel calm and…

He blinked and his head was leaning on something warm and slightly soft. That was alright. So he closed his eyes again. 

~

Charles started when Erik started listing to the side, and held absolutely still as his head thunked down Charles’ shoulder. A quick pass over his mind showed that he was truly asleep, his thoughts quiet and and vague. Slowly, Charles relaxed.

Wanda leaned on Charles’ other side and yawned. Charles looked over to see Peter nestled under his father’s arm, snoring. Charles smiled, then realized something.

He’d have to wake them up to get out. And he didn’t really want to do either of those things.

He’d enjoyed himself thoroughly, and was happy that they’d felt the same. Peter and Wanda still had the energy of preteens, without any of the strange shifts in their thoughts like there were with children. And Erik was bloody adorable, his crush so clear--

Oh.

Oh no.

Charles turned his head slightly and caught a whiff of Erik’s shampoo. It was a generic brand, a generic scent; but he’d put on cologne, and that was certainly  _ not _ generic. It smelled deep and delicious. It made Charles smile again. Then his smile faded, worry growing. He really hadn’t meant to fall in love with Erik, or make Erik fall in love with him. It’s just… Erik was… he had clear ways of being. There were sides, layers, facets to him. He was a diamond with a million facets. Some of them were cruel, Charles knew that from what Angel had told him; but some of them were kind, and some were loving, and some were adorable. And all of him seemed to find something in Charles worth showing multiple facets to. He was the type of man who avoided making meaningful connections, and yet he wanted one with Charles. Or so it seemed. Charles hadn’t dove into his mind to find out.

Charles found himself reaching gentle psychic fingers for Erik, brushing tenderly over his mind. He was dreaming, something happy, something golden and tasting of honey and cinnamon. Charles turned his head and pressed his face into Erik’s hair, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He smelled like sweat and cologne and safety.

But Charles couldn’t rely on his safety. So he turned his head away and sighed. Gently, he jostled Erik with his elbow. Erik’s head snapped up, his eyes darting everywhere as if searching for threats--then they settled on Charles, and he flushed. His hair was sticking up and there was a faint imprint from Charles’ sweater vest on his cheek.

“Sorry,” he slurred, voice sleep-soft. God, it would be so easy to kiss him.

“It’s alright,” Charles answered with a smile, and felt a blush of his own spread over his cheeks as Erik’s eyes caught on Charles’ lips. Unconsciously, Charles bit his lower lip. Erik blinked, and his eyes snapped up to Charles’.

“Do you have to go?” Erik asked, and there was something so sweet, so vulnerable, so pleading in his face that Charles almost said no, of course not, he would happily stay with him all night if it meant he could share his beautiful golden dreams and look into his beautiful grey eyes and kiss his beautiful lips...

“Yes,” Charles murmured. “I’m sorry, I have work tomorrow.”

Erik nodded, and shook Peter lightly, who woke with a snort and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Charles tapped Wanda on the shoulder and she woke too. Both of them sighed heavily when Charles said he had to go home, but hugged him (oh no, even Erik’s children liked Charles) and shuffled out of the way, giving their father meaningful glances. He scowled at them, but followed Charles to the door and offered, “I can walk you to your car.”

“That’s alright,” Charles replied, surprised, “I can’t see how much trouble I can get into just walking to my car.”

“Please,” Erik said softly.

Charles nodded.

It was a balmy night, but Erik still put on a light jacket and walked with Charles down the hall to the lift. Charles still thought lifts in apartment buildings were strange, but he had never lived in an apartment complex, only visited them. And this was a very tall building.

Erik was silent all the way to Charles’ car; a heavy silence, a silence with potential. Charles wondered what Erik would say if he asked Erik to his place for dinner sometime.

When they reached Charles’ little electric car, Erik reached out and touched Charles’ arm. Charles stopped immediately, looking up at him. He could feel the nervous sparks across the surface of Erik’s thoughts, the sleepy confusion.

“I had this all written down,” Erik muttered ruefully, “But I forgot it, again.” He swallowed hard, and met Charles’ eyes. “Will… would… would you like to go for coffee with me sometime?” Erik asked.

Charles tried not to grin giddily, he really did. But it was hard. “Absolutely. When would be good for you?”

Erik gaped at him for a moment. It was almost hilarious, how he hadn’t really expected Charles to say yes. Then he smiled, slow and brilliant and oh Charles wanted to kiss him. “Friday alright?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“Friday is perfect. Noon, I’ll meet you at that coffee place I told you about.”

“The one on campus?”

“Yes, unless there’s somewhere else…?”

“No, that one is fine.” Charles had the feeling Erik would go anywhere Charles asked, which was scary but also adorable. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Charles hesitated. Oh, fuck it. He stood on tiptoe and kissed Erik’s cheek. “Thank you for dinner.” Then he got in his car, and drove away, smiling to himself. His lips were tingling where they’d touched Erik’s skin.

~

Erik took the stairs back up, giving himself time to get his grin under control. His cheek still felt funny in a good way where Charles had kissed it.

Wanda and Peter were waiting in the living room when he returned. They both raised their eyebrows.

“Well?” Wanda prodded.

Erik grinned again. “Friday,” he said simply.

His children were too tired to whoop like loons, but they hugged him, and he hugged back, tightly. Then he pushed them gently, and the three of them all went to bed.

Erik had those soft, happy dreams again. The ones that included roses and champagne and golden rings in little velvet boxes.

~

On Friday, at 11:50, Erik arrived at the cafe. He ordered a coffee, black, with a cream cheese danish, which he slowly tore into strips as he waited nervously.

Charles walked in at 12, saw Erik, and smiled so bright it was like a spotlight. Erik couldn’t help grinning back, which made some people very uncomfortable. He glared at them and they looked away quickly. He could see Charles smothering chuckles as he ordered tea and a muffin.

Then Charles walked over and sat down across from Erik and set down his bag and smiled again. “Well! I’m glad you could make it,” Charles said cheerfully. “Was traffic terrible?”

Erik shrugged. “Not too bad,” he replied, tearing strips of danish into small chunks.

Charles watched with amusement. “You know, those are actually better when you taste them,” he pointed out.

“Oh.” Erik picked up a piece and popped it in his mouth. Eh. He’d tasted better. “So you had classes in the labs today, yes?”

“Mm-hm.” Charles smiled in that way that made his entire face light up. “The chem class left the labs a mess, but that was alright, we still had time to do our work, and it was good practice for the students. Today we were researching mice and how some genetic traits are passed on…”

Erik listened to Charles talk about his classes and occasionally remembered to eat and drink. It was like his lecture videos; soothing and just accessible enough that Erik grasped what he was saying. He hoped Charles wasn’t talking down to him… but the suspicion faded after a quarter of a second. Charles would never do that, not intentionally anyway. He just knew that Erik was not a fellow scientist, and therefore wouldn’t be as excited about some things as he was. To be completely honest, Erik wasn’t excited about any of it; he just loved the way Charles flushed and sparkled and smiled when he was on his favorite subject.

It was one o’clock too soon, and Charles had to leave. Erik didn’t dare touch him, but lord did he want to.

And then, as they said their goodbyes outside the cafe, Charles stood on tiptoe and kissed Erik’s cheek again. “Next Friday?” he asked, and there was so much hope in his voice and face that Erik nodded before he knew what he was doing. “Excellent! See you then!” And Charles trotted away, whistling.

Erik walked to his car, smiling at nothing.

~

A month later, Friday coffee had become as much a fixture in Erik’s life as Sunday groceries and weekly phone calls from Wanda and Peter (who always wanted to know how things were progressing). He had his coworkers over on Monday one week, and Angel looked exceptionally moody, though she wouldn’t explain. Erik recalled that Charles had said she and his sister were friends and Angel visited Charles whenever Raven did; maybe Angel had a crush on Charles. Maybe she’d been hoping to win him over. Maybe she’d fallen for those beautiful eyes and that beautiful laugh too.

Erik was disturbed to find that he felt extremely guilty about it.

So he brought in lemon cake to work on Tuesday, Angel’s favorite, and was surprised by the brilliant smile she gave him. So she wasn’t jealous? This was confusing. He should just ask her what the problem is.

But before he could figure out the right time to ask, Emma entered Erik’s office and said sourly, “He wants to see you.”

“Why?” Erik asked suspiciously, pausing midway between drawing up a contract he was preparing to give to a reluctant whistleblower.

“How the hell should I know?” Emma snapped. “And you’d better talk to Angel, she’s been mopey for weeks.”

“I was planning to--wait, weeks?”

“Yes, you blind idiot! Now go, he’s going to get impatient and it’ll be  _ my _ ass on the line.”

Still puzzling over how Angel hadn’t shown any signs of moping around him, Erik stood and followed Emma to Shaw’s office.

Sebastian Shaw was a horrible, evil man and everyone who worked for him knew it. Unfortunately, he was also cunning and knew exactly what to say to people. Oh, he wasn’t as good as Erik--that’s why he’d hired him, Magneto’s alter ego, fresh out of law school--but he was good enough. Also, he knew how to run many kinds of businesses, thus the “Unlimited” in the company name. And he was a mutant supremacist.

After Magda, Erik didn’t know if that was right anymore.

Shaw was on his feet when Erik entered his office without knocking, pouring two glasses of brandy.

“In the middle of the morning?” Erik inquired dryly, closing the door behind him.

Shaw flashed his usual sleazy smile. “Just a taste, Lehnsherr,” he replied cheerfully, holding out a glass. Erik walked over and took it, eyeing it warily. He could all too easily imagine Shaw poisoning it.

“It’s not poisoned,” Shaw chuckled, sipping his own drink. Erik narrowed his eyes at the other, then shrugged and took a swallow. He hated brandy--whiskey was more his style--but it was good for what it was.

“Sit, sit, sit!” Shaw waved towards the chairs in front of his desk, then took his own seat, smiling. Erik sat gingerly. “I called you in here because a little birdy told me you were seeing someone.”

Erik froze, eyes on Shaw.

Shaw smiled wider.

“I expect you’ll reconsider,” he told Erik smoothly.

Erik gave a thin, frosty smile of his own. Without moving a muscle, he lifted two metal pens from Shaw’s desk and floated them to hover very, very close to Shaw’s eyes. Shaw’s smile shrank.

“And I expect you’ll keep your filthy paws away from whoever I’m seeing,” Erik replied, just as smooth. “And those of your underlings and hitmen. Or your entire life becomes a death trap.”

“I’m still your boss,” Shaw snapped, trying to watch both pens at once, and flinching as they came a little closer.

“Yes, but I’m the one who drew up the contracts, remember?” Erik’s smile widened and grew cruel and nasty. “It’s not my fault you’ve never learned to read the fine print.” Slowly, he drew the pens away and set them back on the desk. “Completely legal, too. Take it to any court in the land, they’ll tell you it’s airtight. You have fewer friends than you realize, Shaw.”

“I could kill you right now,” Shaw reminded him, low and shaky.

Erik grinned, his most sadistic grin. “And everyone would want to know why, and you would be under investigation, and without me, how would you cope?”

“I’ll hire another lawyer!”

“But does any other lawyer know your businesses inside and out?” Erik leaned forward, and Shaw leaned back. “Hands off, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

And he stood, left his glass on Shaw’s desk, and walked out.

Emma gaped at him as he closed the door behind him. Of course she’d been listening in.

“You just--you just threatened  _ Shaw _ !” she hissed.

“I know, I was there,” Erik answered. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go question Angel.”

“She’s in the breakroom. Please be gentle with her.”

“I will,” he promised, heading for the elevator.

Angel was eating the last of the lemon cake at the table with a miserable expression on her face. Erik walked in and pulled out the chair next to her, leaving space between them, and sat in it sideways so he was facing her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked bluntly.

Angel carefully put down her fork, swallowed her mouthful, and began playing with the napkin, studiously not looking at Erik.

“If you don’t tell me I’m going to have to ask Emma.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Angel muttered.

“Bullshit,” Erik said. “Emma said you’ve been moping, and I saw your face just now, and at dinner yesterday.” Erik waited. Angel swallowed hard, but did not say anything, twisting her fingers together.

Erik sighed, and took the plunge. “Is this about Charles?” he asked.

Angel’s head snapped up, and she stared at him like a deer in headlights. Then the expression faded into anger and… oh no. Was that heartbreak? Oh god, this was worse than Erik thought.

“No,” Angel spat, “It’s got nothing to do with him.”

Erik frowned, thrown for a loop. Well, if it wasn’t Charles… “Someone else?”

“You’re an idiot,” Angel said abruptly, and stood to leave--Erik grabbed her elbow and dragged her back to her seat.

“Why am I an idiot?” he asked, masking his exasperation. “Just because I don’t--”

Angel abruptly began to cry.

Erik froze, and had a moment of complete panic. He hadn’t meant to make her cry! But something about the way she was crying reminded him of Peter when he first discovered girls and the girl he liked hadn’t known he had a crush on her. So he did what had worked then; he scooted his chair closer, muttered a gruff “Come here,” and pulled her into his arms, holding her firmly as she cried herself out.

“Has it got nothing to do with crushes?” Erik asked, rubbing her arm soothingly.

She shook her head, which could’ve meant either way, but then she croaked, “It does. And you’re still an idiot.”

Erik frowned, bracing his chin on the top of her head while he thought. Well, combining all the signs…

His eyes widened. He wanted to shove her away, but that would be mean. So instead he stopped rubbing her arm and asked carefully, “Is it to do with me?”

After a long moment, she nodded.

Carefully, he pulled away. She wasn’t careful, sitting upright immediately and grabbing a clean napkin to wipe her eyes and nose. She wouldn’t look at him. He couldn’t quite look at her.

“Well,” he said. “Um.”

They sat in awkward silence for a moment.

“I’m… sorry?” Erik half-asked, wincing.

“It’s fine,” Angel answered quickly, but she still wouldn’t look at him. “I’m just… I’m glad you happy.” She shot him an unreadable look. “You, you are happy, right?”

Erik nodded. He was. He was extremely happy with Charles. He wasn’t sure how long that would last, but for the moment… it was good.

“That’s good then,” Angel said lamely, twisting her napkin.

More awkward silence.

“We should… get back to work,” Erik muttered.

“Yes. Work. Right.” Angel jumped to her feet and walked quickly away.

Erik stood more slowly and threw away her used plate, fork, and napkin. Then he wiped up all the crumbs off the table. When he was sure everything was clean, he reached out cautiously and felt for Angel’s earrings. She was in Emma’s office, which Erik would not have to pass to get to his own. He did not sigh gratefully. That would just be asking for trouble.

_ What did you DO?! _ came Emma’s mental shriek of outrage.

Erik flinched and decided to hide in the breakroom a little longer.

~

“May I film a video with you?”

Erik blinked. He was walking Charles back to the college, as they’d been doing the last three times they had coffee together. “With me?” he repeated.

Charles smiled and took Erik’s hand in his, walking a little closer. “Yes. I need another recipe to film, and it occurred to me that you must have plenty,” he explained.

Erik blushed and gripped Charles’ hand a little too hard. Charles didn’t seem to mind. “I actually don’t,” Erik admitted, then blinked. “Well… I have my Oma’s cookbook. She put it together for Mama but I haven’t really used it…”

Charles’ face lit up. “Oh! There must be plenty of recipes in there that I haven’t tried yet!”

“I haven’t either. Except the streusel. Oma made the best apple streusel.” Erik made a face. “First time I made it it wasn’t nearly good enough.”

“You just need to practice it,” Charles assured him. “It took me  _ years _ to learn Mrs. Jones’s carrot cake recipe.”

“Mrs. Jones?”

“Yes, our--” Charles suddenly stopped, and closed his mouth with a snap, eyes on the ground. Erik frowned.

“Charles?”

“Our cook,” Charles answered softly.

Erik frowned harder. He’d known Charles was posh, but… “You said you learned baking from your mother.”

Charles’ mouth twisted a little. “Mrs. Jones was more of a mother to me than my own ever was,” he muttered.

Erik abruptly stopped walking. Charles did too, though he didn’t look up from the sidewalk. Erik looked around, eyes narrowed, making sure there was no one around, before he turned back to Charles, tipped his chin up, and kissed him firmly.

Charles squeaked. It was adorable. But then he was pressing closer, flush to Erik’s body, and Erik couldn’t help wrapping his arms around Charles’ waist. Was that a semi in Charles’ trousers? Interesting. Erik kind of wanted to touch it.

But he couldn’t, so he didn’t. Instead he kissed Charles to within an inch of his life and pulled back just enough to murmur, “I’m sorry your mother was horrible.”

Charles laughed breathlessly. “It’s alright,” he chuckled, and pressed another kiss to Erik’s lips. “I--”

“Oh my god!”

Erik’s head snapped up, and Charles squeaked again.

There was a red-headed young woman and a young man with red-tinted glasses (in fact the lenses were opaque) gaping at them, obviously horrified. Charles let go of Erik, and Erik followed suit, staring hard at them.

“Students of yours?” Erik inquired without looking away.

“Um, yes,” Charles answered, a little flustered. “Jean, Scott, if you could kindly not mention this, that would be highly appreciated.”

Scott looked terrified now, slowly backing away from Erik. Jean held her ground long enough to nod vigorously; then she turned, grabbed Scott’s arm, and bolted, dragging him along with her.

“Stop scaring my students,” Charles sighed.

“Just driving the lesson home,” Erik replied, turning back to him. His face softened as he looked at Charles. “And memorizing their faces.”

Charles sighed again and leaned his head on Erik’s shoulder, taking his hand again and weaving their fingers together before straightening and leading the way to the university. Erik swung their hands ever so slightly, and felt himself smile as Charles swung a little higher.

“So can you come over and we’ll make a video?” Charles asked.

Erik raised their clasped hands and kissed the back of Charles’. “Absolutely.”

Charles beamed at him.

~

“Hello, everyone! I’m here with my boyfriend who’s asked I don’t give his name or show his face. We’re going to be making his grandmother’s apple streusel.”

Erik swallowed hard. He didn’t remember asking Charles to be his boyfriend. But if that’s what Charles wanted to be, that was alright. He supposed.

His mother’s cookbook rested on a special stand that Erik had made just that afternoon, out of several wire hangers that Charles had had lying around. It was open to the streusel recipe, which Erik had forgotten was so vague. They were in Charles’ kitchen; Erik didn’t like it, there wasn’t enough metal, all smooth wood and glass and that plastic stuff that pretended to be rubber. The utensils were metal, most of them, but that wasn’t enough. Manipulating the knives wasn’t going to make up for the fact that he couldn’t keep the bowls magnetically stuck to the counter

“E?”

“Hm?” He looked up, remembering that they’d decided to just call him “E” for today’s episode.

Charles smiled at him, as if he knew what the problem was. “Would you please pass me the mixing bowls?”

Erik nodded and did so, actually having to use his hands to do so,  _ ugh _ . If they were his stainless steel ones he could just float them. But no, they had to be  _ glass _ . And  _ heavy _ .

Charles laughed softly, then smiled at the camera and began talking.

Erik’s brain couldn’t decide whether to make him relaxed and smile as he usually did when he heard Charles speak, or keep him stiff-backed and distant, like he was when there were cameras around. He forced himself to relax, and focused on Charles’ hands and voice.

“Can you peel these apples, please, darling?” Charles asked, and Erik nodded, holding the apple in one hand and turning it while the knife peeled for him, too busy trying to make sense of the instructions to really pay attention. Charles beamed, then suddenly leaned up and kissed Erik’s cheek. The knife did not waver, but Erik blushed.

When they were done putting it together and it was tucked in the oven, Charles fried up the peels with cinnamon sugar and butter, and Erik decided that he actually really loved Charles’ kitchen.

Of course, that might be because he kissed Charles gently, and Charles immediately pushed him up against the fridge and returned the kiss, hard. Erik gasped, then pushed back, letting Charles’ cinnamon-and-apple-tasting tongue sweep into his mouth, running one hand through Charles’ hair, grabbing Charles’ ass with the other--

Charles broke away first. “Is it--is it too forward to tell you I’ve been fantasizing about you for a month now?” he gasped out.

Erik grinned, hiding a sudden flare of nerves. “I’ve felt the same for far, far longer,” he growled, and kissed Charles again.

“I bet you’re nine inches at least,” Charles mumbled into the kiss.

Erik chuckled a little. “A little generous. Eight and a half.”

“I can’t wait to suck you off.”

Erik’s thoughts stuttered to a halt, imagining Charles on his knees with his pretty pink lips wrapped around Erik’s cock. Charles chuckled and mouthed along Erik’s neck, leaving a trail of little bites and kisses and licks. Erik’s pulse was skyrocketing, he was completely hard, and he was probably hurting Charles, holding him so close like this. But Charles said nothing about that, his hands expertly undoing Erik’s belt and jeans--

“N-now?” Erik stuttered, trying for incredulous, only managing nervous.

“Only if you want to.” Charles looked up at him, uncertain. “Do you…?”

“Yes,” Erik answered quickly, then, less sharply, “Yes.”

Charles smiled, and slid to his knees, pulling down Erik’s jeans and underwear as he went. “So this is what eight inches looks like,” he murmured, breath hot on Erik’s exposed cock. Erik nodded, almost mesmerized, as Charles slowly and carefully swallowed him down.

It had been approximately too fucking long since Erik had had a blowjob. He’d almost forgotten how good they could be. He groaned and buried his fingers in Charles’ hair, watching with wide eyes as Charles moved, sinfully slowly, his mouth so hot, lips tight around Erik, tongue doing things that Erik couldn’t really describe beyond  _ amazing _ \--

The timer dinged. Charles immediately backed off, and Erik let go of him, trying not to look too disappointed. He probably failed, because Charles grinned and nuzzled his neck and whispered, “Just a moment, darling,” before going to take the streusel out of the oven. Erik pulled up his underwear and jeans again, and pushed away from the fridge--

Charles’ head whipped around, and he narrowed his eyes at Erik. “Drop your pants, I’m not finished with you,” he ordered.

Erik meekly returned to his position against the fridge and pushed his pants down again. It was annoyingly cold in the kitchen, even with the lights and oven on, but he managed to stay hard by watching Charles and imagining what it would be like to suck  _ his _ cock.

Not that Erik had ever done any cock-sucking, no matter what his enemies said. In fact, he remembered with a feeling of impending doom, he had never slept with  _ anyone _ with a cock.

He was just beginning to wonder if this was an appropriate time to panic when Charles returned, dropped to his knees, and fit Erik in his mouth again. Erik closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. G-d in Heaven, forgive him, but he was obviously going to be getting a lesson in more than just baking today--and he was probably going to enjoy it more.

It was easy enough to help Charles jack off after; Erik didn’t even mind when Charles bit him, hard, and came all over Erik’s jeans. He’d never liked that pair, anyway.

Then they cleaned up as best they could and finished the video. Charles insisted on feeding Erik the first bite; and Erik couldn’t help a sudden smile, because it tasted almost exactly like Oma’s.

“A little more sugar,” he decided, “And it’s perfect.”

Charles beamed at him, and it was so full of affection and happiness that Erik wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close for a small kiss. Charles chuckled softly and nuzzled against his neck before pulling away just enough to say to the camera, “And I believe that’s all for the day! Thank you so much for watching, I’ll see you all next week!”

And when he turned off the cameras and mic and lights, Erik couldn’t help it, he wrapped his arms around Charles and pulled him in close. “Thank you,” he murmured, kissing Charles’ cheek.

Charles smiled and ran his fingers through Erik’s hair. “You’re very welcome, my love.”

~

Charles wanted to insist that Erik stay the night, but he seemed… antsy. Nervous. So Charles kissed him, promised to come for dinner the next day, and sent him home with the streusel and his cookbook.

He’d put away his filming equipment and was sitting down to edit it a little before finishing lesson planning when there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was Erik, he jumped up--

But with his awareness caught, he realized it was Angel, and she was sad. He hurried to the door, drawn to her negative emotions, wanting to fix them. Such feelings had only ever gotten him into trouble before, but--

Screams.

He flinched from the memory, his mind skittering sideways, but he calmed himself and opened the door with a faintly worried expression.

Angel looked determined, though her emotions were roiling, sadness and disappointment and grudging acceptance. Before Charles could ask her in, she demanded, “Are you happy with him?”

Charles blinked. “Yes,” he answered.

Angel nodded, letting out a soul-deep sigh. “May I come in?” she asked.

“Of course,” Charles replied, and stood aside to let her pass. When she’d slipped out of her shoes, Charles hurried to fetch his good bottle of wine. He suspected Angel didn’t need it, but just in case.

“I know I’ve said some things about him,” Angel began, watching Charles pour two glasses, “But he really is a bit of a softy. He’s mostly a cruel, cold-hearted bastard, of course--that’s why he’s survived this long. But he’s got a lot of love and no one to give it to.”

“Not no one,” Charles contradicted, a little too quickly. “He has his children, and--”

“Not that kind of love,” Angel snapped. “Like, romantically. You’re a telepath, Charles, a strong one. Did you look at all?”

Charles stared at the two untouched glasses. “No,” he replied softly. “I… I’ve been trying not to look too closely at other people.”

“It’s been three years. You’re not still hurt, are you?”

“No.” Charles shivered. “It’s… it’s a sensitivity thing. If I look too closely, I get sucked in, and it takes outside stimuli to break the connection. I hate it. I don’t wish to inflict that on anyone. And yes, I know I have to learn how to control it all over again, but… there’s no one I trust enough.”

“Not even Raven?” Angel asked quietly.

Charles hugged himself. “I swore I’d never look into her mind. I’m not going to break that promise.”

“What even happened that day?”

Charles closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Just… so much death. I was…  _ pushed _ , I think a telekinetic, and then the pile-up, and... “ he shuddered. “I felt them die. In pain. Agony. I felt every injury, every emotion. The fear was bad enough, but there was one person, they just--accepted it. They just sat there and let the life bleed out of them and didn’t care. They  _ didn’t care _ .” He was shivering. “They died last.”

Angel sat there quietly. Then she said softly, “Never go in Erik’s head. He’s seen far worse. Done far worse. You ever hear of Magneto?”

“The domestic terrorist who assassinated those senators?” Charles replied, startled--then he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

Angel nodded. “He stopped when he met his wife,” she informed Charles. “But Shaw still calls on that side of him on occasion.”

Charles nodded slowly. “I’ll… I’ll be careful.”

“Good. You still love him?”

He thought of Erik’s smile, of his kisses, of his voice, of the way he listened so intently. He thought of everything and found himself smiling helplessly. “Yes,” he said softly. “I love him.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/151003004@N08/35828418376/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments = Life, Love, and Happiness!
> 
> EDIT 7/11/17: I MADE AN ART


	5. fünf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this a five-chapter but _someone_ *glares at all my tumblr friends* kept giving me ideas and egging me on with other stories, so it's gonna be six. I'm sorry it's so late.

Erik didn’t know how he ended up singing along to old musicals with Charles after dinner, but he did. He hadn’t sung with anyone since Magda died. But Charles was just so  _ bad _ , caterwauling along as if he couldn’t tell, that Erik had to sing and outshine him. Charles looked absolutely thrilled the moment Erik sang his first note, and he snuggled close under Erik’s arm as they sang along.

When they ran out of musicals that they knew, they went to Erik’s desk in the corner and listened to YouTube together. Charles danced in his chair when he really liked a song; Erik tapped his foot to the beat. And watched Charles. He was just so adorable.

His throat felt tight, but in a good way.

Charles suddenly stopped mid-dance, looking doubtful. “Is it alright that I told my sister we’re together?” he asked, and his anxious frown was so cute, Erik had to lean over and kiss him gently.

“Yes, that’s fine.” He smiled as Charles brightened, and smiled wider when Charles stood and sat on Erik’s knee instead. Erik wrapped his arms around Charles’ waist and leaned his head on the other’s shoulder, as Charles put his arm around Erik’s neck.

“Erik?”

“Yes?”

“Can I spend the night?”

“I don’t see why not,” Erik replied.

Charles smiled, brightly, brilliantly, and Erik didn’t know it was possible to fall in love with him more but he did. “When do you get up?” Charles asked.

“Usually around five, so I can get to the gym before work,” Erik answered. Charles wrinkled his nose and Erik grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll shower before I kiss you good morning.”

“How do you know I won’t be awake with you?” Charles asked primly, his cheeks going pink. Why? Because Erik said he was going to kiss him in the morning? Not that it mattered; what mattered was that it was cute.

“You said yourself you can’t wake up before seven,” Erik pointed out, hugging Charles a little closer.

Charles sighed dramatically and ran his fingers through Erik’s hair. “I was hoping you’d forgotten my lazy ways. Alright. But I  _ am _ cooking you breakfast.”

Erik grinned wider and leaned his head on Charles’ shoulder again. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome,” Charles murmured.

They ended up cuddled on the couch again while Charles explained to Erik how to edit video. That was why he’d brought his laptop; because he wanted to ask if he should distort Erik’s voice too, since he did speak a little. Erik shook his head.

“No, it should be fine,” he answered.

“Oh, good, because I’m not sure how to do that,” Charles replied cheerfully. Erik chuckled. 

They went over it together, and Erik got to see all the ways Charles used his video editing software. He gave Charles the wifi password and watched him upload it to Youtube. Charles’ suggested was all music, with some British shows thrown in for variety. It was a very eclectic mix of music. Erik saw The Cranberries beside Carly Rae Jepsen, Ladies Code next to Bach. It was a wonderful mix, actually.

“You have excellent taste in music,” he murmured.

Charles blushed. “Even Carly?” he asked, with a little sideways smile.

“Wanda would not stop singing “I Really Like You” for two months after it came out,” Erik informed him gravely. “She still hums it sometimes. I’ve learned to like Carly, for Wanda’s sake.”

Charles smiled wider, slowly. But instead of explaining, he put his laptop down on the coffee table, before cupping Erik’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply. Erik’s breath caught, then he sighed and kissed back, arms tight around Charles’ waist.

He hadn’t made out in ten years at least, but with Charles, it was… good. Erik was a little rusty, but Charles was patient, and talented. They managed just fine, and Erik found himself wishing he could just stay here kissing Charles forever and ever. Fuck work, fuck school, fuck everyone else in his life; give him more warm kisses and soft lips, gentle nips and gentle hands.

Charles pulled back with a breathless laugh, and Erik told himself the little noise that escaped him was  _ not _ a whine.

“You’re so cute,” Charles whispered, running his fingers through Erik’s hair. “So unbelievably adorable.”

“Lies, filthy lies,” Erik mumbled. “Kiss me again?”

Charles obliged.

At some point, though, they had to stop. It was past Erik’s usual bedtime, anyway. He stood and pulled Charles to his feet, and led the way to the bedroom, holding Charles’ hand. They both stripped down to their underwear and crawled into bed, and Erik grinned as Charles flopped down on top of Erik, chin resting on his chest.

“You’re warm,” Charles mumbled.

“And you’re cold,” Erik retorted, pulling the blanket closer around Charles.

“One more kiss.”

So they made out some more, and Erik wondered a little giddily what his children would say if they knew their father was turning into a teenager again, all over some beautiful little British cook. They’d probably be grossed out. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that Erik was happy. Completely, utterly, unequivocally happy.

~

He woke at five, as usual, and had to squirm out from under Charles, who grumbled, but didn’t actually wake up. Erik missed his weight and warmth immediately, but he wanted to work off the happy energy filling him.

The gym was nearly empty, so no one was there to hear him humming “I Really Like You” to himself. Not that anyone would recognize it. He was fairly sure he was butchering the tune. But it was upbeat and happy, and it made him smile a little.

When he got home around six, he took a long shower, and exited the bathroom feeling calmer. He stole into the bedroom; Charles was still conked out, cuddling the pillow. Erik wanted to run his fingers through Charles’ hair, but he had to get dressed first. He looked in his closet, and his eyes fell on his maroon shirt and the purple tie that went with it.

So instead of his usual stern black and white, he wore maroon and purple, and eschewed a jacket. When he was dressed, he went over to the bed and leaned over to kiss Charles’ cheek. The other stirred, scrunching his face before blinking his eyes open and smiling sleepily up at Erik.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

“Good morning,” Erik murmured, and kissed him. Charles sighed happily and kissed back, and made a little pathetic whimpering noise when Erik pulled away. “If you want more, you have to get up.”

“Evil,” Charles muttered, but sat up, yawning. Erik rewarded him with another kiss, and was about to walk away when Charles twisted up on to his knees, grabbed Erik’s tie, and yanked him down for a longer one. Not that Erik was complaining. Even with morning breath, Charles tasted good.

“Breakfast,” Charles said when they parted. “I promised you breakfast.”

“Yes,” Erik said.

He soon learned that Charles didn’t care whether he was dressed or not. He simply walked around in his boxers, and moved around the kitchen as if he’d lived here just as long as Erik. He made crepes, and used some of Erik’s canned strawberries in the filling.

“Homemade?” Charles asked when he found the strawberries.

Erik blushed, but nodded. “My mother taught me,” he answered.

Charles smiled. “Can I try the recipe?”

Erik nodded again.

The crepes were delicious. Erik made hardboiled eggs, and Charles exclaimed at how perfect they came out.

“Mine never cook properly,” he sighed, and showed Erik the best way to shell the eggs.

They feasted, then Charles dressed again and they got ready to leave. When they parted ways in the parking garage, Charles tugged Erik’s tie, and they shared one last lingering kiss before getting in their cars.

Erik grinned all the way to work.

He scared everyone with his smile. Even Azazel and Janos hung back, eyeing him warily. Emma was the only one who ventured into his office, and that was only so she could get a quick read on his mind.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, eyes widening. “You’re in love!”

Erik grinned at her. “I’ve  _ been _ in love,” he told her patiently.

“No, but that was just--this is--you--” Emma spluttered. Erik wanted to laugh, but that would probably make her go diamond and slap him. “This is different! What did he do?!”

“Spent the night, that’s all,” Erik answered calmly.

“That is  _ not _ all,” Emma snarled, “He did something to you.”

“If you mean he kissed me and it was better than anything, yes, he did. But that’s all. Really.”

Emma left, pouting angrily. Erik got to work, humming sappy love songs to himself.

MacTaggert wanted a crucial piece of evidence from him. Her email was very polite, but firm. If he didn’t hand it over, she was going to get a warrant to search a safehouse. Erik considered this. Then he smiled, and replied politely that she would have to ask Shaw. Her return email was still polite, but she was basically asking what the hell he was doing. Shaw didn’t handle these things, Erik did. Erik replied with the fact that this venture that she wanted to shut down was new, and he didn’t know the ins and outs as well as Shaw, who had set it up.

She agreed, and thanked him as usual. He went back to his other duties.

Then Shaw burst into his office, red in the face and ready to begin shouting. Erik smiled at him.

“How can I help you, sir?” he asked.

Shaw’s face drained of color. “Um. It’s nothing,” he said, and quietly left, closing the door behind him.

Twenty minutes later, Erik got a triumphant email from Mactaggert stating that she had the evidence and she was very thankful for his cooperation. Erik sent a gracious you’re welcome email and got on with things, smiling to himself.

He texted Charles at noon and asked if he wanted to go to dinner soon. Charles answered in the affirmative almost immediately, and followed it up with a suggestion of a restaurant. Erik looked it up online, saw that it was one he had passed but never entered, and said yes.

At the end of the day, he packed up his papers and went home, steps light and his face hurting from smiling so much.

He called Wanda, since she was the least likely to lose her phone, and when she answered, after their typical greeting, he told her smugly, “I do believe Charles and I are--”

“You’re official?!” Wanda gasped, “Tell, tell!”

So Erik told his daughter about how he made a video with Charles, and how Charles had told him his sister knew they were together. He told her that Charles had stayed the night, too, leaving it at that.

“Dad, you didn’t… you know?”

“No,” Erik replied. “He’s like a heatsink, though. I don’t know how he’s survived all these years.”

Wanda laughed. “Yeah, my last boyfriend was like that too. Are you going to call Peter? He’s better with his phone now.”

“Yes, I will. Thought I should tell you both.”

“You wanted to brag.”

“Yes.” Erik grinned as Wanda laughed again. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

“It has. I’m glad for you, Papa,” Wanda added, voice softening. “I really am.”

“Thank you, liebling.” Erik hesitated, then asked, “Will you and Peter be visiting soon?”

“We can if you want us to. We already gave you our blessing, though.”

“Humor me. I miss you two.”

“We miss you too, Papa.”

They talked a little more, about how Wanda’s major in music was going, and if she was practicing her powers, and how her last boyfriend had turned out to be an asshole, so she’d dumped him and had a girlfriend now. The way Wanda talked about her girlfriend, Jubilee, made Erik smile softly. It was different than the way she talked about boys, and he wasn’t sure if that was just that these were new waters for Wanda or if she was truly in love this time.

They said goodbye and Erik called Peter, who was a little more explosive than Wanda, giving a loud whoop and chattering questions so fast Erik could barely keep up. Erik had to smile. It was nice that his children were so supportive. He loved them so much.

Peter had a job at a local daycare for mutant children, helping care for the younger kids age seven to nine. They all took great delight in running with him, even though he couldn’t do it too soon after they’d eaten or they’d throw up on him. He didn’t have a significant other of his own, but he was happy that way, and Erik saw no point in trying to convince him to feel otherwise. He had also moved out of Mindy’s and shared a house with some other guys who were human, but thought his mutation was awesome and shared his taste in music. So Peter was happy.

Erik felt a great swell of something he thought could probably be labeled as joy, that his family was doing well. Out there in the world there were terrible people and terrible events, but there were also good things, and his children were living proof.

When he and Peter hung up, Erik stretched out on the couch and decided that, for the first time in a long time, life was good.

~

“Hello, everyone! My boyfriend will be joining me for this recipe, because it’s actually his mother’s. Today is the two different types of canning and why you have to do them differently, and then I’ll show you a crepe filling with blueberries.”

He had stood before news cameras and answered hard questions. He had defended his corrupt boss in courts big and small. He had done and said many things on camera without a twitch, things that made others uneasy or frightened. He was no stranger to having a camera and microphones shoved in his face.

And yet, here in Charles’ kitchen, Erik couldn’t help feeling nervous when Charles finished his greeting and turned to Erik with a smile.

“My mother preferred preserves and fruits to pickling,” Erik started with, “So I know more about berries than beets. But I remember some of what my grandmother taught me.”

He acted like he was talking only to Charles, and that helped. Charles was quick to learn, and asked good questions, and laughed sincerely when Erik accidentally made a very bad pun. He was always touching Erik; putting his hand on Erik’s arm, bumping their shoulders together, knocking Erik’s foot with his. It would’ve been annoying, except that it made Erik feel warm inside, knowing that Charles wanted to touch him. Maybe he wanted more later?

They finished canning their berries and some eggs and beets, and Charles talked about pressure canning, and then they made crepes. Erik smiled when he swallowed his first bite.

“Good?” Charles asked.

“Excellent,” Erik answered.

Charles set his plate down and stood on tiptoe to kiss Erik lightly, before turning to the camera and saying, “And that’s all, folks! See you--Oh!” Then Charles couldn’t talk, because Erik was kissing him.

“See you next week,” Erik told the camera calmly, and a little breathlessly, when he pulled away.

“Come back here,” Charles snapped, and pulled Erik down for another.

It took a little longer to come up for air this time, but when they did they reluctantly pulled apart and began shutting off the cameras, mic, lights, and Charles’ laptop. Then they started cleaning up the kitchen. That didn’t take very long, though Charles got even more physical, bumping gently against Erik, leaning on him, give him small kisses on the cheeks and neck. Erik returned the favor, putting his arm around Charles’ waist, gripping his wrist and kissing his hand, before backing off a little to wipe the counter, then returning for a hug. Charles buried his face in Erik’s chest and hugged back tightly, pouting when Erik pulled away. Erik kissed him gently and murmured, “Later, schatz.”

That made Charles’ face light up, eyes bright, and Erik had to smile.

Charles spent some time editing the video, cuddled on the couch with Erik, until Erik got bored and reached over and saved before taking the laptop away, putting it on the coffee table, and kissing Charles, pulling him even closer. Charles sighed, a shuddering breath, and returned the pressure, the tip of his tongue teasing at Erik’s lips until he opened them. It got sloppy quickly, open-mouthed and wet and just a little too much like inexperienced teenagers. But it was good.

Halfway through, though, Charles grabbed Erik’s wrist and dragged him to his feet and down the hall. Erik went willingly, heart in his throat, breath coming faster, trembling in every limb because were they really going to do this? Were they really, truly, going to--to--

Charles dragged him through a doorway, kicked the portal shut, then turned and shoved Erik up against the door, kissing him hungrily.

“I want you,” Charles murmured, when he finally stopped. “I want you  _ so much _ \--” His hands worked at Erik’s belt, and Erik found himself undoing Charles’ shirt’s buttons without conscious thought, exposing smooth, pale skin, and Erik suddenly wanted nothing more than to touch, to taste, until Charles kissed him and his priorities abruptly shifted again. Now he never wanted to let Charles stop kissing him. His fingers fumbled on the last of Charles’ buttons, but he got it open at the same time that Charles shoved down Erik’s jeans and underwear around his knees, hands sliding up his thighs to slip under the hem of his shirt and push it up; Erik raised his arms and Charles practically ripped Erik’s shirt up over his head and down his arms, dropping it to the side. Erik pulled him close and kissed him, shivering as Charles’ bare torso pressed against his. Charles growled, annoyed, and undid his fly, dropping his trousers.

Erik stared. He hadn’t really paid much attention to Charles’ erection, mostly because he wasn’t used to thinking about his partners having dicks, but looking at the way Charles’ boxers strained, he wondered suddenly what sucking cock was like.

Charles chuckled and pressed close again, his erection hidden by the press of their bodies but certainly still there, because it rubbed against Erik’s and made him a little weak. “I’ll teach you how to suck me off later,” he whispered, and bit Erik’s neck. Erik gasped a little, fingernails digging into Charles back. How did he know? Did it matter? No, of course not. Erik kicked off his jeans and underwear, groaning as the act shifted his hips against Charles’. Charles himself gasped a little, then backed off, grabbed Erik’s arms, and dragged him across the room, shoving him down on the bed and climbing on top of him, knees nudging Erik’s thighs apart.

Erik suddenly remembered that he had no idea how to do this.

Charles grin shrank. “Erik?” he murmured.

Erik felt a slow, humiliated blush fill his face. “I-I… I’ve never had sex with a man.”

Charles blinked. Then he smiled, and reached down and squeezed Erik’s cock gently, sending pleasant little shivers all through him. “That’s fine. I can teach you,” Charles murmured against Erik’s collarbone.

Erik nodded helplessly, trying not to look too wanton as his legs opened a little wider of their own accord. Charles chuckled softly and reached for the bedside table, where lay a tube of lube.

It felt very strange, a finger inside him like that. But after about a minute, it felt… good. So Erik relaxed, his nerves settling a little into a buzz instead of a loud hum, because he knew without really knowing that Charles would never hurt him--

A second finger joined the first, gently easing him open a little more, and he bit his lip hard, as Charles’ other hand slowly stroked his cock. Just enough to keep him hard.

Then the fingers found a spot inside Erik, and he gasped, feeling a shock all through him at the contact. Charles smiled and began rubbing that spot, until he didn’t need Charles’ hand to stay hard, his hands fisted on the sheets so he wouldn’t bruise Charles with the strength of his grip, gasping short, sharp breaths, as then a third finger slipped in and oh he couldn’t take much more of this he really couldn’t, “Charles, please, Charles, I-I can’t, I can’t--”

“Yes you can, my darling.” Charles kissed the inside of Erik’s thigh and he moaned a little. “Give me a moment.” And he took his fingers out, leaving Erik feeling empty and disappointed because that had felt so  _ good _ \--

His first thought when Charles’ cock entered him was, Big.

The second was, Lord Almighty,  _ yes _ .

“Tight,” Charles gasped, but then he was fucking Erik and there was no time for words.

He started slow, on the edge of gentle, but then he picked up speed, bending Erik in a way that Erik had never bent before, fucking into him so hard, Erik groaned and wrapped his legs around Charles and he could feel everything metal in the room groan and vibrate with him, pulses of vibration in time to Charles’ thrusts, and he was so caught up in the sensations that he didn’t even notice the little whining moans he was making, or the way Charles laughed, or anything else really. There was nothing except a hard cock inside him, rubbing against the place that made sparks dance before his eyes, and a hot hand around his own dick stroking and teasing and oh no oh no oh no

He came with a gasp, and Charles moaned his name, fucking unsteadily until he came too, and they stopped, resting.

Erik suddenly became aware of the fact that he hurt.

“Ow,” he said.

“Oh!” Charles slid out of him and gently let his legs down, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“Forgot?” Erik repeated, slightly dazed, because he’d never had an orgasm  _ quite _ like that.

“That it was your first time.” Charles took off the condom and disposed of it, then got up and wobbled to the bathroom. Erik closed his eyes, just for a moment…

Something warm and damp began wiping the stickiness from his skin. He opened his eyes, surprised, to see Charles sitting on the edge of the mattress beside him. The warm damp thing was a washcloth. When Charles was done, he threw the cloth in the vague direction of his hamper and slid into bed with Erik, laying half on him. Erik didn’t mind. It made him too warm, but that was better than too cold. The last time Erik had had sex, his lover had made him leave without after-cuddles, and it had made him feel unwanted, which had been a silly thing to feel and he never went back to her again.

“That’s not silly,” Charles murmured sleepily. “That’s a perfectly reasonable thing to feel, if cuddles make you happy.”

“How do you--” Erik cut himself off as he remembered Charles’ casual mention in one of his oldest videos. Telepath. “I forgot.”

Charles raised his head and stared at Erik. “That I’m a telepath?” he asked, seemingly bewildered.

“Yes.”

“Most people never forget.”

Erik snorted and ran his fingers through Charles’ hair. “They’re silly, then. It doesn’t matter what you are, all that matters is what you do.”

“Don’t quote things at me,” Charles chuckled, but there was a softness in his face, a relief that Erik didn’t mind. Erik pulled him down for a kiss, lingering and warm and soft.

“I will, because I love you,” he murmured against Charles’ lips.

Charles let out a long, deep sigh and kissed Erik again. “I love you too,” he whispered.

Erik knew this already--why else would Charles actually want to be his boyfriend?--but it felt so good to hear it. A warm pleasantness shivered all through him, and he pulled the blanket over them both and hugged Charles close and was content.

~

He stayed the night with Charles. He ached in the morning, but he was able to pretend it was nothing. And the pain wasn’t enough to stop him wanting to know what Charles tasted like.

“Can I suck you off?” he asked Charles when they were done with breakfast.

Charles nearly choked on his orange juice, but managed to spit it out in time. Then he laughed and kissed Erik quickly. “Not right now. But yes.”

Erik grinned.

It was Sunday, meaning Charles had to finish up grading for his classes on Monday. Erik read Charles’ favorite books, lying on the couch, while Charles sat at his desk. They were interesting books. Charles had quite a collection, and all of them were intriguing. Erik recognized some of his own old favorites in with other well-read volumes, and smiled, pleased to see that they shared some tastes. Charles even had a shelf of regency romance novels.

Erik was halfway through “The Tenacious Miss Tamerlane” when Charles finished grading and came over to straddle his hips, hands sliding up and down Erik’s torso slowly. Erik carefully tucked a bookmark in the book and set it down on the coffee table before resting his hands on Charles’ thighs and giving them a gentle squeeze. Charles smiled.

“Would you like to try now?” he asked.

Erik nodded and Charles chuckled, before standing again and making Erik sit up. Erik slid off the couch and to his knees; that’s how it started, right? He looked for confirmation and saw that Charles’ pupils were wide and his face was bright with anticipation. So Erik undid Charles’ fly and pulled down his jeans, then his boxers, then he took a moment to admire Charles. His cock didn’t  _ look _ that big, but it had certainly  _ felt _ quite large.

Charles made a muffled little noise and said breathlessly, “I’d like to start slow, please.”

“Um. How do I do that?”

So Charles coached him through his first blowjob. Erik learned many things about himself. First, he kind of liked the taste of Charles’ skin (though the taste of precome made him gag slightly). Second, he had a tendency to almost bite, which made Charles nervous, so he focused on not doing so. Third, he  _ really _ liked when Charles pulled his hair a little. Fourth, the  _ feel _ of Charles, so hot and stiff yet soft, was interesting.

Fifth, he was a natural. Well, that’s what Charles said--gasped, really. Erik smirked around Charles’ cock and followed his instructions faithfully.

“Erik--Erik, I’m gonna--c-come--”

This did not process in time, and the tip of Charles’ cock was still in Erik’s mouth when he came. Erik spat and coughed, and Charles laughed faintly, gripping Erik’s shoulders as he swayed a little.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner.”

Erik grumbled as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then looked down and flushed. “It’s all over your carpet now,” he muttered.

“I never liked this carpet anyway,” Charles replied. That made Erik grin up at him.

Charles cleaned the carpet while Erik swished some mouthwash. Then they cuddled on the couch, Charles soft and supple with satisfaction, Erik just proud he did a good job on his first try.

“Wanda and Peter are coming to visit soon,” Erik told Charles.

“Good,” Charles murmured, nuzzling Erik’s neck. “I want to embarrass them by kissing you at inopportune times.”

Erik chuckled. “I’m alright with that. It’ll do them good.”

“Mm. Erik?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Erik kissed Charles’ hair. “I love you too.”

~

Charles never wanted Erik to leave, but they both had work the next day. So he let Erik leave, sighing heavily as the door closed. He locked it and went back to editing the video. He decided to keep the kiss at the end, mostly because he wanted to show that Erik was  _ his _ , and all those comments saying they were going to “steal” him were in vain.

There was a knock at the door as he was color-correcting, and he reached out with his powers absently, confirming that it was Raven. He saved and got up to open the door, smiling at Raven.

“Good afternoon, dear!” he chirruped, moving out of the way to let her in.

She cast him a suspicious glance, then sniffed the air. “He was just here, wasn’t he?” she asked, kicking off her shoes. “Or have you started wearing cologne?”

Charles smiled wider. “He spent the night. You just missed him.”

“What!” Raven whirled, aghast. “I didn’t even get to give him the shovel talk before you screwed him!”

“You don’t know I screwed him,” Charles countered primly.

“You’re wearing your just-got-laid face,” Raven snapped, jabbing his nose with her finger. “You screwed him.”

“Alright, yes, I did.” Charles moved her hand out of the way and hugged her. “He’s wonderful. You’ll like him when you meet him.”

“ _ If _ I meet him,” Raven grumbled, but hugged back.

She insisted on watching the video before Charles could finish editing it, and snorted when they kissed at the end. “You’re so sappy it’s disgusting,” she said frankly, but her emotions were soft, and Charles read that she was happy for him. It had been a long time since he’d dated, and he had never had anyone but friends and Raven in his videos.

Charles hugged her around the shoulders. “Let’s make lunch,” he suggested.

“Already ate, but if you’re making sandwiches I’ll have a few.”

He laughed, she grinned, and they went to the kitchen to make lunch.

“Call me next time he’s coming over, so I can drop in unannounced,” Raven ordered, as they both slathered their bread with mayonnaise. No one liked Charles’ sandwiches except Raven because of the excessive mayo, and her only because he’d half-raised her on it. “I want to catch him with his pants down. So to speak. Don’t actually want to catch him with his pants down. I don’t want to know what you two get up to.”

Charles smiled. “Nothing too adventurous,” he assured her. Then he added mischievously, “Yet.”

Raven swatted his arm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found a tidbit to end this shitstorm on.

"Erik?”

Erik turned, surprised, to see Charles holding out a little black box. When Erik was looking, Charles opened the box. Inside was a ring, a steel ring with little inlaid circles of silver instead of diamonds.

“I’d get down on one knee, but you’re already taller than me,” Charles began casually, blushing fiercely. “Anyway, it’s our three-year anniversary and I was wondering… um… will you marry me?”

Erik had set down the bowl before Charles finished the question and crossed the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Charles and kissing him, hard.

“Yes,” he mumbled, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Charles laughed, relieved. “Oh, good. I was afraid you’d say we should wait another year or so, to be honest, and dear god I don’t think I could’ve lasted.”

Erik grinned. “I can make our wedding rings myself, if you don’t mind iron instead of gold.”

Charles’ face lit up, and it was so beautiful Erik had to kiss him so he wouldn’t cry. “I love you so much,” Charles breathed.

“I love you too,” Erik whispered.

~

“Hello, everyone, it’s Charles here with my fiance Erik and we’re baking our wedding cake!”


End file.
